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Outside there was battle. Troops fought, auxiliaries mostly. The kind you could afford to lose. Unggoy wobbled themselves towards entrenched battle lines, spurred on by threat of certain death from behind if they didn't face it ahead. Some fled, respirators crackling with unconstrained panic. Some took a human bullet. Most, charging against an endless current of their kin, didn't make it far before a kig-yar sniper adjusted aim. Aquil knew this was happening. He could see it, had seen it. This had been the past week of fighting. Unimportant troops, disposable, thrown in wave after wave against walls of concrete and table legs, makeshift junk packed between bunkers. It was glorious. The final days before utter victory. Aquil wouldn’t be apart of it. He wasn't outside, wasn't standing in reserve with fellow Sangheili warriors, waiting for the first breach in the walls. No, Aquil was at base, stripped of everything save pride, and even that was down to a matter of perspective. Naked, on his knees, forced into what had to be the most humiliating position a warrior could be in. No, Aquil wasn’t standing proud with his fellow Sangheili, he was kneeling in corner time. The invasion of the human colony world of Eschata began with an orbital strike. It was sudden, chaotic. Or so Covenant forces thought. The planetary capital was obliterated in an instant, heralding a ground invasion that should have swept the entire world into Covenant pockets in one smooth motion. Unfortunately, it wasn't as effective they had hoped. Humans somehow caught wind ahead of time. Most of the city was evacuated, its population dispersed among forts built throughout the Olympian mountains, a chain weaved tight around Eschata’s only other city. Most of these aforementioned forts were simply disintegrated, but a few alongside the last city managed to avoid annihilation due to laying too close to stores of Forerunner tech for comfort. These remained a thorn in the side of the invasion. They made sorties, hitting the Covenant flank whenever they could before retreating back into the forests. The war effort drew to a frustrating crawl. Aquil's job was to counteract these raids, keep these humans bottled up in their holes, take them if possible. He hunted bands across Eschata’s great wooded hinterlands, relentless and terrible and all things that a warrior should be. With only a band of Kig-yar and a collective thirst for victory, they burned forests, decimated raiding parties, countered every blow their enemies might’ve hoped to bring against them, leaving the city’s defenders all but alone. Fun had never been so tactically sound. It had been a great time, perhaps the best in Aquil’s life. Then it all ended. On a cold night like any other on Eschata, ragged bands of humans were spotted wandering about the forests. Aquil, drunk on his own success, hadn't considered the possibility of a trap. They fell on him, dozens materializing out of trees and behind rocks and through tall grass, all to lay hell on Aquil’s unprepared team. While their inferior weapons and training meant he killed many, Aquil was forced ultimately into a humiliating retreat. The first of the entire campaign. So, here he was. The sound of creaking wood drew Aquil’s attention. The warrior turned his head, mandibles clicking in surprise. There—sat at a rather primitive wooden desk of human make—was Aquil’s brother, Rethimee. Rethimee, honored Rethimee. Leader of Sangheili and sword ever unsheathed. He sat like a king on a throne made for someone a fourth his size, at once both ridiculous and beyond ridicule. Pristine white armor almost seemed to glow in the confines of their small quarters, adding a certain awe that made the way he looked down at his disgraced brother all the more insulting. For now he wasn’t looking at Aquil at least. A real time holo-feed dribbled information onto his primitive desk, into hands limp and uninterested in doing anything with it. There was no need. There was no strategy here that required oversight, just ocean against cliffside. Rathimee watched with all the rapt attention of a board child. Whatever he was or could be, Rethimee had always been more. Larger, stronger, greater, everything Aquil accomplished was tinted in his brother’s shadow. Now, disgraced, humiliated, he was placed under watch of his superior sibling. Officially he was assigned, temporarily of course, to Rethimee's honor guard. Just another sword in the commander’s retinue. In reality, he was there to be belittled. Punished. Spanked. "Up." Rethimee spoke suddenly, more a grunt than word. Aquil understood him well enough. He stood, rising to his feet with all the dignity a man in corner time could manage. It was hard not to feel the least bit intimidated. His brother was massive, he hit hard, and could just as well kill him as continue with this humiliation ritual of his. Spanking. Such a punishment wasn’t entirely uncommon in the covenant, but not for Sangheili. They were better, elite warriors, drawn blades of the faith. Such a punishment was for lesser beings. Kig-yar in particular had a whole culture around “bottom searing” as they called it. But of course, Aquil’s failures marked him as lesser than his peers, than his race. No one would complain of such treatment, save himself. "Over." He marched to Rethimee's desk. His brother, not looking away from the holo-feed, motioned. Aquil dutifully slipped around the desk and bent over Rethimee’s lap. It was all done with the smooth motion of routine long established. As his comrades fought mock battles, honed their skills with blade and pistol, he practiced getting over his brother’s knee. Aquil’s mandibles trembled with the absurdity of it. Rathimee didn’t speak immediately. Instead he continued to watch the holo-feed with cold disinterest. That didn’t fool Aquil though; he could feel Rathimee’s true interest poking him in the thigh. Bastard. After a short while Rethimee waved a hand. The holo-feed blinked out of existence. "So brother," Rethimee said, resting a large hand across his bare bottom "how would you like to be emasculated today? It was always on him to choose. And count. And do a long number of things to assist in his own degradation. All his brother did was smack his ass and tell him when he could get back in the corner. Aquil growled. Rethimee responded by swatting his brother's right cheek. Aquil jolted, taken aback by sheer surprise more than anything. "Tell me why that was wrong or I'll spank you again." Aquil's hands curled into fists underneath him. "Because I—" "Say it all, brother." "...it was wrong to...to growl at you. Because you're my commander—" Rethimee struck again. "I'm your brother, brother. Your elder, protector, and. . ." He paused. Fingers traced along two very red handprints over Aquil's right cheek. "Your disciplinarian." He gave his brother's ass a hard squeeze. Aquil almost growled again, even as he hissed through the pain. "Now, brother, how do you want me to discipline you?" Indignation, rage, shame. Emotion rose and fell in Aquil's chest like labored breaths. This pretense was the worst part of Rethimee's dominance, other than the spanking itself. Discipline, protector, as though it were all for his benefit. This wasn't correction. It was gratification! An abuse of power! "If you can't decide, perhaps I should simply try all of them." Aquil's eyes went wide then. Without thinking he let out a whimper, all pride and anger yielded in a single moment. "S-switch!" He blurted, seizing upon the first thing that came to mind with all due desperation. "Ah," Rethimee sighed with much pleasure, "let's find one then." -- If Aquil had any time to regret his split decision, it was now, outside, with everyone watching him. A hand poorly concealed his sangheilihood while the other scratched at dirt like a bird searching for seed. There was no forest here. There used to be some weeks ago, but base was far enough away from the mountains that there was no risk in turning this verdant landscape into a glass floor. Bits of wood could still be found here and there, buried. So Aquil dug, aware his predicament was entirely his own fault this time. The humiliated warrior pulled a stick free from the dirt: too thick. He picked out another: a twig. All the while he dug, voices chattered behind his back. Kig-yar and Unggoy were smart enough to keep their jokes to a whisper But fellow Sangheili, a small cadre of blue-armored minors and his brother's honor guard left to guard camp, mocked him openly. Aquil dug his claws into another patch of dirt. He felt, pinched, pulled. A long, thin branch materialized in his hand. Rethimee stood halfway across camp, arms crossed, amused. Aquil tried to walk with dignity, but the open laughter of his kin overwhelmed any sense of pride the disgraced warrior could manage. He approached with his head low, mandibles chittering in supplication. He wished desperately to be back inside, over his brother’s knee. At least that humiliation was private. "Hmm…" Rethimee swung the stick against his palm. His Mandibles clicked in disapproval. "Poor quality. Worthless. Brother, I know you oh so fear your spankings, but this is unacceptable. " Rethimee snapped the stick in two between fingers. "Find another." It took about an hour of digging through dirt before he found something Rethimee was pleased with. As he was finally led back inside Rethimee's quarters, a chorus of fellow warriors jeering and clicking behind, Aquil decided then and there he would one day kill his brother. -- "T-ten! Aghh! E-eleven!" Red, thin stripes lay across the sangheili warrior's cheeks. They burned, stung something unbearable. Aquil didn't bother holding back tears, there was no shame in them besides. That's what he would tell himself at least, Later, sleeping on his front, a blanket carefully positioned to obscure nudity while not too heavy on his bottom. That was later, though, after he had some space to think. Aquil didn't have such luxury bent over a desk. All he knew was that it hurt. It hurt and if he didn't count his stripes it would hurt a lot more. He clutched the other end of his brother's desk, held on for life. "Such a naughty boy you are, brother." Rethimee's cold voice went liquid as he said it: naughty boy. He purred, sometimes moaned. More than once an idle hand went to grope at the humiliated major ass. "Naughty, naughty boy..." Aquil could smell Rethimee's lust from here. Sick, perverted. The air of the confined cabin filled with need that bordered on, perhaps surpassed, something animal. Feral. Rethimee brought the switch down hard. Aquil yowled. His back arched. Inadvertently he humped his brother's desk. Rethimee's hand kept him pinned without effort. As strong as he was, his brother was a monster. A Jiralhanae in sangheili skin. Aquil squirmed. Tears slipped from his eyes "Stoooooooooooop!" He sounded like a hatchling now, not a warrior. He didn't care. He would later, but not now. Now he just wanted, needed, his spanking to stop. "I'm sorry! I'll be gooooooood I'll be gooooooooood!" Rethimee responded with a firm swat to his sit spots. "PLEASEHEEEHEEASE!" "You stopped counting, naughty boy," Rethimee said, pausing briefly to squeeze his brother's ass. "Guess we'll have to start over."