Sayid had learned several things from his week of punishment. He didn’t know how or when, but he knew he was going to either kill Diaco or die trying. He knew most faces around the compound and he’d paid close attention to those who chose to take advantage of his punishment as opposed to those who either left him alone or brought him water. He knew he would only get one chance to kill Diaco, and he would need allies if he wanted to succeed. He knew that he would need to be very careful when and who he spoke of his plan to. He also knew the closer he could get with Diaco the better his chances of success would be. 

Sayid would spend the better part of the next several years working toward his goal. He pushed to be the best in all ways, successful in fights, and on missions, and reverently attentive to Diaco’s lusts. Letting Diaco believe that his punishment had created the obedient toy he desired. Eventually worming his way in with him to the point that he was summoned to Diaco’s bed most evenings when he wasn’t away on missions. Initially, Diaco was still wary, keeping guards in the room at all times Sayid was present, and occasionally inviting them to join in when he was “feeling generous”. Sayid would acquiesce,  to whatever whims or new fetishes Diaco would demand, feigning enjoyment of his cloying attention. Eventually, Sayid’s patience paid off as Diaco’s arrogance and confidence in his control eventually led him to order the guards outside his quarters more often than not when they were together. He considered trying to kill him then, but he knew he could not succeed on his own, so Sayid bided his time. 

He would use his time away on certain missions to gather supplies and build connections. Learning of and negotiating with others who would be all too glad to benefit from Diaco and his wealthy allies being removed from power, and from the mortal coil. He had no illusion that these others were any different or better, but he saw a chance at freedom and revenge. 

Once he had everyone he needed in the know on board he planned the siege for the night of one of the feasts. The wine had been laced by the servants to knock out Diaco and his friends while Sayid was busy with the now routine warm-up of torture. Once Diaco and the others were out cold the guards, who he’d very carefully won over to his cause, would move to signal and the attack would begin. His only two conditions were that his allies would go unharmed and that he would be the one to kill Diaco. 

“Bring this stuff up to his room for me,” Sayid said to one of the guards, nodding to the assortment of torture implements laid out as he moved to pick up Diaco’s unconscious body. The one he’d addressed did as he asked while others waved in allies to deal with the other unconscious wealthy folk. Sayid carried Diaco to his quarters, dropping him on the bed and looking to the guard who’d bundled the various implements into a tablecloth. “Don’t let anyone into this room until I come out.” He said. 

“Right.” The guard nodded, setting down the bundle and then moving to stand guard outside the room, closing the door behind him and leaving them alone. Sayid’s heart hammered in his chest, moving quickly to cuff Diaco to the bed in the same fashion he often was. Not willing to take any risks that Diaco might wake up and defend himself. Once Diaco was secure, he brought the bundle to the bed and spread out the tools. Part of him screamed to take no risks and slit the man’s throat now while he was out cold, but another part of him wanted to see Diaco suffer before he died. To have him know who it was that would end his life. To look him in the eye as he perished. Cruelty won out over fear and Sayid crawled atop Diaco, looking over the tools and deciding what he wanted first as he waited for Diaco to come around. He selected a slender dagger, beginning to cut away the other man’s clothes as he waited for him to wake. 

“Mmh.. Sayid? What is this? What are you playing at, my gem?” Diaco said as he began to stir and took in his circumstances. 

“This is the end, Diaco. I’m going to hurt you, and then I’m going to kill you.” Sayid said coldly. 

“Guards! Sayid has gone mad! Help me!” Diaco screamed, pulling at the cuffs, but no one came charging in to the rescue.

“No one’s coming. If you’ll quit your screaming and listen, you’ll hear the last of your loyalists being killed out there. It’s just you and me in here. No one is coming to save you.” Sayid said, leaning up over him to grab one of his bound hands, beginning to drive the dagger tip under each fingernail and pry them loose. Watching Diaco’s face contort with pain as he screamed. When he finished with one hand he would move to the other and repeat the process. Wanting to keep the damage minimal while maximizing the pain at first. He would pivot to do the same with his toenails when he’d finished with the other hand. When he was done with the wailing man’s feet Sayid turned back to face him, looking down at the Diaco’s sweaty face. “You taught me there are two kinds of people in this world, Diaco. I’ve decided I’m going to be the one that does the using, not the one that gets used.” Sayid said in a venomous tone. 

“Don’t be stupid, Sayid. You will pay for this! My allies will crush you!” Diaco spat. 

“Your allies are probably already dead, and my allies are sitting back and waiting for me to walk out of here with your head.” Sayid shook his head, grabbed Diaco’s hair, and cut one of his ears off and then the other. The man howled in pain as the dagger sliced through skin and cartilage. 

“What do you want? Do you want money? How much did they pay you?! I’ll double, no, triple it! Just don’t kill me!” Diaco bargained.

“I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything you have to offer.” Sayid spat. He happened to be getting paid handsomely for helping sell out Diaco and his friends, but he would’ve done it for free if it meant revenge. He climbed off of the man and moved to grab a lit lamp and bring it over to set it near the bed, relishing the fear in Diaco’s eyes as the man tried to guess what torment would come next. Sayid would move back to his feet, severing each toe with surgical precision and then heating the blade over the flame of the lamp when he was finished. Using it to crudely cauterize his feet. The smell was sickening, but the desperate screams of agony were music to his ears. He moved back to his hands next, repeating the treatment he’d given Diaco’s toes with his fingers. The man was left breathless and trembling in pain on the bed when Sayid had finished with his hands.

“Please… please stop… mercy.” Diaco wheezed with tears, snot, and sweat steaming his face. Sayid’s lips pulled back in a snarl of disgust and fury, an incredulous and scathing laugh followed the look.

“Mercy?” He scoffed, “When have you ever given anyone mercy?” He spat, grabbing Diaco by the jaw and leaning in to stare into his eyes. “Mercy isn’t real. Only the powerful and the powerless. A lesson you burned into my bones.” Sayid growled, shoving away and dropping the dagger among the pile of implements. His eyes darted over the assortment seeking his next tool. 

He would spend the next hours breaking the man in every way he knew how. Drawing out his suffering slowly, trying to make it last and memorize every second of it. When he was done the man on the bed had been flayed, bones broken, only his head remained untouched save for the removed ears. Diaco whimpered and trembled, any capacity to form coherent words had left him. Sayid decided he was finished, picking up a larger blade and then gripped the man’s hair tight, beginning to slice at his neck. Leaning in to stare him in the eye as he did so. Blood bubbled from Diaco’s lips and sinus but his whimpering was cut off. When the head had been parted from the body Sayid released the man’s hair and dropped the blade to the floor. Sitting back for a moment as the gravity of what he’d achieved washed over him. A mix of savage glee at achieving his revenge, excitement mixed with fear at the prospect of his freedom, and beneath it a yawning void of emptiness. The question of “What now?” bored into him. 

He picked out a few weapons from among the pile and then moved to grab the head and leave Diaco’s quarters. The guard beyond the doors glanced inside toward the bed and then just as quickly averted his gaze. Sayid moved past and out to the courtyard, finding the leaders of those he had bargained with waiting for him. Throwing Diaco’s head at their feet. “If that’s all, I’ll take the rest of my payment and be on my way.”

“No chance you could be convinced to stay and work for us? You are a skillful fighter and tactician Sayid, and we could reward your skills handsomely.” One of the group spoke. 

“No,” Sayid said flatly, his expression darkened. 

“A pity. Well, here is the rest of the agreed-upon amount.” The other man was quick to say and produced a sack of golden coins that Sayid inspected carefully before giving a nod. He moved away without another word to the stables. One of his allies had packed Diaco’s best horse with food and water. He added the gold to the pack and climbed onto the back of the steed, riding out of the compound and away. As the adrenaline faded he found himself exhausted, that feeling of emptiness settling in deep. He rode to where he had hidden the first half of his payment and collected that, riding on toward the next settlement over. He decided Sayid had died on this day, with Diaco. He chose a new name, introducing himself to the innkeeper at his destination as Mateo…