a s l a n

Iskender Şahin Uzun. I have lions in my heart & a firestorm soul. 25. يڭيچرى Janissary Commander. Ottoman Empire.

[annclise]

     “A rather obnoxious sight, isn’t it?” Annelise uttered, finding her place beside the man who commented on the lack sobriety flowing through the Roman streets. At the sight of the blade clutched within his palm, Annelise pulled her shawl further above her arms to express her growing discomfort. Perhaps those that were normally in his company were of a more threatening nature than she. Nevertheless, Annelise decided that it was best to simply ignore the blade altogether and direct her attention to the scenery ahead and above. 

     A look of disgust promptly fell on those foolish enough to swallow copious amounts of wine. The coronation of the pope had given many of the roman citizens quite a bit to drink to, however it left to those that chose to bear a more sober mind to deal with the drunken carelessness of the rest. “Perhaps the only peace that is available can only be found in solitude.”

[iiskender-blog1]

Iskender’s grip on the scimitar relaxed, and his hands moved to rest by his sides. There was no point in distressing the girl when she merely stood and offered conversation. His stance relaxed ever so slightly, and his expression mirrored the disgust on her visage ( he preferred a clear mind to one marred by wine ). 

“Peace is attainable, but ephemeral like the fleeting wind.” He replied, watching the inebriated group lumber off, their dark silhouettes merging with the distance. Iskender turned his gaze to her. “Have you been able to find solitude in Rome, my lady? It seems that commotion resides in every turn of this city.” 

[astarandcrescent-deactivated201]

        His next words, his assurances, gave her frayed nerve some soothing, because she had heard no other reassurances for a while. She watched Iskender’s soldiers file in not a moment after he had spoken. For now, the show of force, the reminder of home, made her tense jaw loosen, though the set of her shoulders did not slump. She refused to let them. “I want a word with you, commander, after this is over.”

      Hatice strode to the middle of the courtyard, aware of every eye on her. The chatter died down. Hatice saw her children all in the front row, with her maidens behind them. It made her want to scream, that she had to have them here, but it was better that they heard it from her than anyone else. “My countrymen, my fellow Ottomans,” she began. She spoke of their armies’ defeat, of Sultana Gevherhan being taken captive, of their Sultan;s near-mortal wounds from battle. She watched the faces of her people, letting it sink in. she continued on, telling them strictly how they were now to act in the Eternal City, how their every move counted. She told them of the Valide regent, now come to Rome as well. Every word was a blow, but blows that Hatice meant to counter. Hatice paused at the end of her speech. “I do not know why Allah has taken our Sultana from us, but she will return, by our might and His.” She nodded, if only to reassure herself. She felt as if she had just declared war. Perhaps, in a way she had. “Dismissed.” Her words were sharp and final. She caught her commander’s eye and nodded her head towards her office, then turned to go, following her children back inside. The commander would follow.

[iiskender-blog1]

Iskender received the news with a heavy heart. There was a tangible difference in the atmosphere, as if the unfortunate news spread like frost. He should’ve accompanied the sultan on his campaign, should’ve been there on the battlefield doing what he did best. Maybe if he was there and blocked the blow... But there was no point in thinking about the should haves and what ifs. His Agha & the Sultan appointed him here for a reason, and as Hatice said - every effort counted from now. The past could not be changed, that much he knew from all those years thinking about home. 

This regret & misery soon morphed into something darker - into vexation and the urge for bloodied vengeance. His gaze darkened, thunder in his ears and war chants clinging to his form. How dare they take the sultana captive as if she was chattel to be traded and bargained ( what was she doing there in the first place? ). 

A curt order and they were dismissed. Iskender turned to his men, organising guard arrangements for the Valide regent in a few commands before heading after Hatice. 

“Our sultan will recover, insha'Allah.” He spoke, stepping into the ambassador’s office. “And may the sultana be returned to us soon.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw children running in the hallway. “Are they yours, hatun? They remind me of my siblings when we were just children.” 

[devicusduke]

George had been rendered nonplussed and unfazed by the scraping of medal within the foreign’s trousers ; the tintinnabulation of a sword received as pleasingly as the osculation of waves to a corsair and the sounds of moans to a prostitute. He approached with little caution, atramentous irises sweeping over the vast swath the man seemingly presided over with a rigid and firm demeanor. One George felt inclined to challenge. 

‘Oh, the Tiber is oft red indeed. When monarchs lose their temper scarlet bourns torrent as liberally as the slashing of one’s blade. It causes one to wonder what is beneath the surface after all.’

[iiskender-blog1]

Fingers unwrapped from the scimitar handle, moving instead to rest on the stone railing ( cold & unyielding beneath his touch ). His rigid demeanour, however, remained the same. Not that he expected any danger from the other man. Iskender could tell the other had royal blood in his veins - it was evident in the way he carried himself, in the bite of his words. 

“A monarch’s temper is unmatched, and what lies beneath the surface is not for us to question.” He turned to look at the other. “Are you subject to such temper, my lord...?” He asked, searching for a name. 

[copperyfaustina-deactivated2016]

                Faustina cocked her head downwards to listen to the stranger below. Handsome enough, she supposed, but broad enough that she wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. “Good sir, you do insult to me,” she called down, grinning like a devil. “I am as one of the demons of hell. I do not simply fall on accident.” Flinging out an arm she motioned to the riders in the streets. “Look, here comes his Holiness, and there are those taller than you before you. I can see plenty from my perch here; will you join me?”

[iiskender-blog1]

The girl seemed confident enough, and who was he to doubt her? Besides, she had a point. He had no desire to squeeze through the crowd to catch a glimpse of their Pope. He made his way up, sitting next to her above the swelling crowd. And sure enough the procession marched by - all red cloths & gold crosses. 

"Everyone gathers here today like moths to a light. Do you have no family to accompany you?” 

[iiskender-blog1]

Celestial bodies roamed above, the night air carrying the same sense of excitement as day did. Iskender stood on the bridge, watching reflections ripple across the river. The sound of laughter and merry chatter was carried over by the breeze, and the city was alive with light and colours in the lingering shadow of the papal celebration.  

Out of habit his hand grasped the handle of his scimitar as he felt another’s presence nearby. Off duty or not, he could not just shrug off the habits trained into him. 

“Even the night knows no peace,” he spoke as a group reeking of alcohol stumbled by, laughing at their own drunken antics. “& wine flows like water in this city. I wouldn’t be surprised if the river was dark red.” 

[astarandcrescent-deactivated201]

closed starter for @iiskender

           Hatice finished buttoning the cuffs of her sleeves as Nergiş fastened the veil to her headdress. Today was the day after her meeting with the snake, and their conversation rang in her ears. What was done was done, though, and all that Hatice could do now was prepare. She had told every Turk in her embassy to assemble in the courtyard as she told them of Gevherhan Sultan’s predicament, and what it meant for them. Unfortunately, on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, she saw her staff, but only a few of her Janissaries. Her steps rang through the air, announcing her presence on the marble tiles. “Commander!” She called to the man speaking with his soldier. “I assume your men are only a minute behind you, are they not?” She eyed the commander, saying something she used to say to her brother. It always worked for him. “Is your head not on straight?”

[iiskender-blog1]

The Roman heat encompassed from all sides, and the embassy courtyard granted little reprieve ( though the heat was not so unfamiliar in Edirne ). The old commander had taken his leave, and Iskender stood conversing with one of the soldiers, listening to the updates he had to tell. Although he had met the soldiers last night, it seemed that things here moved fast as they did in Edirne ( lies & treachery were a universal language, he supposed ). 

A voice jolted him from his conversation, and Iskender turned to face the ambassador. He caught a quick glance of her - all dark hair & tall stature, a sharp glint in her eyes. What surprised him were her next words: ‘Is your head not on straight?’ Oh the times he had heard his sister utter the phrase. It brought him back to a time of running in the streets with his siblings, of sitting in a circle warming their hands by the fire, of him handing Leyla the chestnuts he saved for her. 

“Apologies,” he replied, bowing his head. The phrase always worked. A squad of soldiers marched into the courtyard, assembling into neat lines behind him. He had sent them on an extra patrol. “I was handed the reigns today. Iskender at your service, Hatice hatun.” Hope bloomed without restraint - there were too many coincidences for her not to be his sister ( her name, her mannerism, her speech ). He only hoped she had not forgotten her family. 

[copperyfaustina-deactivated2016]

            Faustina, for all her virtues that she could claim, had decided that the best way to see the papal coronation procession was to climb into the branches of a tree. It turned out to be an idea in her favour; she was above the loud, rather smelly crowd, and there was shade. She sipped from a skein of water she’d brought with her and let a leg dangle below her. The pope himself had not passed, so Faustina took her time eyeing the crowd below. Glittering nobles, raggedy orphans, even a pickpocket going about his business. 

[iiskender-blog1]

Foreign country, foreign sights — Iskender was off duty roaming the city. The sun shone down unapologetically, and he found refuge within shade, watching the festivities from afar. He rather preferred observing from afar than to be in the thick of it. Besides, the jostling and sweaty crowd held no appeal. 

Only when he leaned against the tree did he realise someone was sitting above him. The sight reminded him of his younger sister ( a world & half a memory away ). “Careful; wouldn’t want you to fall & hurt yourself.” 

[uncawanwo]

[nadyaturhan]