Hernan Cortes was, to say the least, unimpressed. He took a step towards the conmen, looming over them menacingly
"You have the audacity to stow away on my ship in the first place, and now this? Sodomy? Explain yourselves!" he barked, voice a low, vicious growl. Tulio stared with wide, shocked eyes up at Cortes, who was radiating intimidation and utter contempt as he glared at the two of them. Tulio cleared his throat and started trying to smartmouth his way out of the situation.
"We . . . hadn't technically got to the sodomy ye-"
"Silence, heathen!" the conquistador roared, taking a few more thundering steps and seizing Miguel by the wrist, pulling him roughly from Tulio's arms and into his chest with his sword poised across his neck. He gave a bitter chuckle "Not so cocky now, eh?" he hissed, Miguel looking on helplessly at Tulio. He stood up sharply and a strangled noise came from the back of his throat - probably in sympathy for Miguel.
"H-hey, get your hands off him!" he shouted, his hands balling into fists by his sides.
'Yeah, like you could take Cortes in a fistfight,' the more rational part of his brain retorted. Cortes raised an eyebrow, eyes boring into Tulio
"My my... you /are/ still cocky. How about if I were to do this..." he sneered, sheathing the sword and holding both the struggling blond's wrists in one huge hand, running his fingers along his jaw slowly with the other.
Tulio tried to launch himself at Cortes's throat to give him a well-deserved what-for, but was restrained by the sailor from earlier. He kicked and struggled but wasn't as strong as he usually was due to their prolonged imprisonment and couldn't get free.
Cortes didn't even flinch at Tulio's attempted attack - he just raised one thick eyebrow and tightened his grip on Miguel's hands.
"Of course you wouldn't be aware of the Ten Commandments, heathen, as you have just broken one," he growled, narrowing his eyes. "Thou shalt not covet."
"He's hardly coveting!" Miguel spoke up, earning him a strike across the face from Cortes.
"Quiet, I was not speaking to you." he growled. Miguel flinched, defeated. It had been a blatant lie anyway; he'd seen the furious, jealous flare in Tulio's eyes. Tulio flinched as Miguel's cheekbone absorbed the impact, trying to hurl himself forward to try and help but only serving to have his arms twisted behind his back by the sailor. He cried out in pain.
"In fact," Cortes continued, completely ignoring Tulio, "it would not surprise me to find out that you have kept to none of the Commandments."
Miguel remained silent, ceasing to yank against the huge man's hand due to wondering whether they actually /had/. He shot his partner a worried glance. Tulio shook his head at Miguel, trying to reassure him. Cortes caught it and snarled, spinning Miguel around so his back was to his chest and Miguel's arms were locked behind his back.
"I think," he continued "that you have only managed to keep one commandment. Not working on the Sabbath day." his expression became beastly "Because neither of you have worked a day in your pitiful lives." he punctuated the last two words by roughly grabbing a fistful of Miguel's hair and shoving him forward as much as possible without breaking his hold on his arms. The blond's face was contorted in pain as Cortes tugged on his hair, forcing him to look at Tulio.
"Miguel!"
Tulio thrashed around in the sailor's hold, trying desperately to free himself. He kicked and spat and swore but to no avail; the man had the hands of a blacksmith.
"Quiet," Cortes hissed. "Neither of you ignorant /children/ will say a /word/." he paused momentarily "Why don't we test the threshold of your little... harlot?" he spat, calling to one of the sailors "Bring me a cat-o'-nine-tails."
"/No!/" Tulio shouted. He knew the pain of the whip. They both did. He'd felt it bite into the skin of his back, felt the blood run down his spine and soak into his clothes, and he never, ever wanted Miguel to have to go through it again. "Don't you /dare/ -"
"You filthy sodomites must learn and if I must use violence to consolidate God's will then so be it." he drawled, voice utterly devoid of emotion as Miguel trembled in his hold. A smirk crossed his face "Do not fear. If you repent, we may spare his face any wounds." he cackled, roughly grasping Miguel's jaw between his fingers, forcing his gaze onto him. The blond swallowed hard and glared into the others eyes, trying to keep his fear buried inside him. At least it would be just him and not Tulio, who was shaking by this point. He'd lost all feeling in his legs and would have fallen to the ground were it not for the sailor's arms keeping him upright.
"Don't /touch/ him, you fucking monster," Tulio spat. "I'll kill you if you so much as -"
Cortes motioned to the sailor holding Tulio to hit him and turned to the other sailor who had brought back the whip.
"Remove his shirt and bind him." he commanded, shoving Miguel carelessly towards him. Tulio was thrown forward and landed on his knees in front of Miguel, both of them trembling with fear and pain. Tulio glared up at Cortes, crossing his arms stubbornly when a rope was tossed towards them.
"No."
"10 strokes or you both die, here and now." Cortes said coldly and drew his sword, the other sailors following suit.
"Tulio..." Miguel whispered softly, saying nothing more, only holding his hands out and giving his partner a weak, defeated nod. He looked disbelievingly at Miguel, helpless and kneeling on the ground. His gaze shifted to the whip, dark and ominous in Cortes's hold. He swallowed.
"Miguel . . . I-I can't . . ."
Miguel frowned pleadingly, biting back his own terror to encourage the other
"Tulio, you /have/ to..." he whispered, taking the other's face in his hands "Can't hurt that much, right?" he asked jovially with his best attempt at his trademark crooked smile. The sailors moved forward to stop their contact, but Cortes held a hand up to stop them. He wanted this to be as harsh as possible on both men.
Tulio grasped Miguel's hands in his own, kissing the palm of his partner's left hand and frowning.
"Cut it out. I can't hurt you like that, Miguel. I . . ."
Miguel shook his head, gripping his hands tightly
"Tulio, I won't blame you... listen, we will both /die/ if you don't." he said as gravely as he could, pushing back the tears trying to leave his eyes no longer from fear, but from the sorrow of seeing his partner in this state. Tulio screwed his eyes shut tightly and swallowed. He leant forward to press his lips against Miguel's forehead, his breathing heavy and laboured and his heart thudding painfully behind his ribs.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered against Miguel's skin. "I'll try to make this . . . I'll try to be gentle."
Miguel took a shaky breath and gave Tulio's hands one last squeeze before letting go and holding out his own hands once again, crossed at the wrists
"I know, love, I know... I /don't/ blame you." he repeated, slightly stronger this time. Tears blinded Tulio as he reached for the rope and bound Miguel's hands as loosely as he could get away with; continually muttering that he was sorry as he did so. He straightened up to glare at Cortes and held his hand out for the whip.
"You bastard," he hissed, tears escaping his eyes and running down his cheeks. "You rotten, filthy /bastard./"
"Throw the other end of the rope through the bars. Fernandez will catch it." Cortes commanded, completely unperturbed by the dark haired man's insults and obvious raw emotions. Tulio swallowed and angrily swiped the tears away. He did as Cortes ordered, sending apologetically pleading looks to Miguel, who shook his head, eyes screaming 'It's /not/ your fault' before emitting a pained yelp as Fernandez yanked unnecessarily hard on the rope. Tulio flinched, feeling as though the sound had pierced his heart. He gritted his teeth, turned to Cortes and held out his hand again.
"Give. It."
Cortes smirked, dropping the whip into the conman's outstretched hand
"Ten lashes. You will give a commandment for each one and if prompting is required, you will give an extra lash."
Tulio stared in disbelief at the conquistador, his mind all but grounding to a halt at the cruelty of the man. His fingers tightened around the whip.
"I'm sorry, Miguel… so sorry" he ground out as he faced his partner.
"I know, Tuli, I know..." Miguel whispered, hanging his head. Noticing the possibility of the blond offering support or condolences, Cortes muttered something to a sailor, who walked away and promptly returned with a cloth which he promptly tied around Miguel's mouth. Tulio swallowed. He spun around on his heel and walked around behind Miguel. He stared at his friend's back, knowing it was do or die but his mind shied away from the despicable act he was about to commit. He gritted his teeth and raised the whip, his entire body shaking. "Thou shalt have no other God before Me," he whispered, and brought the whip down.
Miguel couldn't surpress the scream that was ripped from his throat as the whip tore into the flesh of his back, the hooks digging in and ripping through his skin. He was /glad/ he was gagged. Tulio felt bile rise in his throat but he fought it down, desperate not to give Cortes any more satisfaction. He couldn't stop the choked sound of horror that escaped from his throat as he saw the blood drip from Miguel's back, though. The blond mentally begged that Tulio would be aware that the less time left between strokes, the more the new pain would dull into the old.
"Thou . . . thou shalt not take unto thee any graven image," Tulio muttered, cracking the whip again. 'Whatever /that/ means,' his hysterical mind added. Cortes nodded his approval, Miguel making a similar noise to before, albeit more restrained for Tulio's sake.
". . . remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy." Crack. No scream. He couldn't do it to Tulio. He had to just stay quiet.
"Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain," Tulio choked. His arm felt detatched from the rest of his body as he brought the whip down. It made a horrible hissing sound every time Tulio unwillingly cut the air with it. Miguel squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears, a shriek of agony escaping him, as he was unable to keep his resolution of silence.
"P-please . . ." Tulio whispered, his hand slick with sweat on the handle of the whip. "Stop this . . . I'll take it, not him, not anymore."
Miguel screamed something from behind the gag, sobbing and shaking his head. Cortes remained silent even though he had already made up his mind that they would finish, waiting to see how Tulio would handle it. "I-I can't . . . Miguel, you're . . ." Tulio stared in complete disgust at the lines he had ripped in his partner's back. The blond shook his head faster, looking over his shoulder and widening his eyes at Tulio as a signal to go on.
"I . . ." Tulio was silenced by a low growl coming from Cortes. He ran the flat edge of the sword along his palm and stared at the duo with cold eyes. "… honour thy father and thy mother."
Miguel might have given an ironic snort after this one, were it not for the circumstances. 'Almost there, Tulio...' he thought, genuinely more concerned for his partner's mental wellbeing than anything else. Tulio's head felt swimmy, like he'd drank too much and stood up too fast, but ten times worse. The smell of Miguel's blood was thick in the air as he raised his arm for the sixth time.
"Th-thou shalt not kill."
They were over halfway, and Miguel was relieved to feel his back go numb - his screams were lessened. The cat-o-nine-tails made a sound akin to a scream as it sliced through the air.
"Thou shalt not commit adultery."
'Whoops... does... Barcelona count? Because that really was a... misunderstanding.' Miguel thought groggily, starting to slip out of consciousness. Tulio let out an ironic snort, his hand limp around the whip, as he realised what the next one was.
"Thou shalt not steal," he all but growled.
"Stop." Cortes held up a hand and signalled the medic to go forwards and check on the blond.
"Unconscious," the medic pronounced after checking the blonde's pulse, dropping his hand unceremoniously.
Tulio blanched and ran forward, dropping to his knees in front of Miguel's slumped body and tearing the cloth from his mouth. "Miguel?"
Miguel remained still, Cortes just raising an eyebrow
"Pour seawater on his back."
"Miguel, Miguel, wake up, come /on/," Tulio said softly, one hand on either side of Miguel's face. He swallowed. "Wake /up./"
"Stand aside, heathen." Cortes said flatly, as the sailor returned with a bucket of salt water.
"No. I'm staying here until he comes around," Tulio said stubbornly. Cortes growled
"We are not doing it to hurt him - it will serve as a disinfectant. Unless you /want/ him to be at risk of death." he said mockingly. Tulio swallowed and pushed Miguel's hair back from his face. "No. I don't w-want him dead." He stood up, his legs shaking.
"Then /stand aside/." Cortes hissed, teeth gritted in irritation. Tulio stood aside and watched as Miguel was doused in seawater, wincing as if he could feel the salt water soak into his own skin.
"FUCK!" Miguel howled, in English, pupils contracted from the pain. He threw himself back, hitting the wall, and collapsed in a heap, shivering and sobbing.
"MIGUEL!" Tulio ran forwards and grabbed his partner by the shoulders, wanting to hold him but scared of hurting him more. "Miguel, I'm here, are you . . .?"
"Shit, it..." he hissed in pain, curling into Tulio, tears escaping his eyes "It bloody burns..."
Tulio pressed his forehead against his partner's, unsure where to put his arms to avoid hurting him. "I'm sorry, it'll stop in a minute, I'm sorry . . ."
"N-Not..." he grimaced, wincing "not your fault..."
"Oh, shush, it is /mostly/ my fault."
"Enough. Resume where you left off," Cortes barked, annoyed. "This is taking far longer than it should."
Miguel gave a casual shrug, even though his eyes screamed of the pain flooding his body
"Oh well, a-at least I don't have hairy armpits or something..." he said, voice thick with tears "or this'd be a great deal less pleasant for everyone."
Tulio choked out something between a sob and a chuckle and clutched desperately at Miguel's hands. "Yeah, because this situation could be /so/ much worse . . ."
"Ah come on, it could..." he replied with a weak grin.
"Really." Tulio raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"I wouldn't want to give him any ideas." he muttered, gesturing at Cortes with a devilish grin.
"Good point, good point," Tulio snorted, glancing over at Cortes. "Don't know how much more either of us could take."
"Yup." Miguel nodded, staggering to his feet at standing proudly, back as straight as the wounds would allow. He glared defiantly at Cortes. 'I'll take it... you /won't/ break me.'
"We'll see. You've still got two more lashes," Cortes glared, slightly disappointed that there hadn't been more screaming and begging. He tossed the whip to Tulio. "Get on with it."
Shaking his hair out from where it had been stuck to his face with sweat, Miguel casually turned his bleeding back to Tulio again. Tulio, somewhat strengthened by his partner's confidence, took a deep breath and raised the whip for the penultimate time. "Thou shalt . . . thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."
A strangled cry of pain came from Miguel, who could feel his confidence disappearing as if it were being sucked down a huge drain. The last stroke felt like the most painful, probably due to the long interval that had been left. Tulio raised his arm for the last time, taking a deep breath before bringing the whip down -
"Thou shalt not covet" - and rushing forward to grab his partner.