i see it all. i feel it all.

[ncrrctcr]

a single muse blog for farhad qajar, sultan of persia. written by rawr, she/her, gmt+1

— please dni if you're not affiliated with @theopulenthq

musings sideblog @ncrrctcrisms

[ncrrctcr]

A soft gasp follows the man's words, but his voice, despite themself, brings momentary comfort. Familiarity from a simpler time. "A deserted archipelago. One they thought deserted, at least. They found people living there, speaking a language no one knew. I assume they never returned there, as there aren't any further reports on the place." A shame, because the artist who illustrated the insects the expedition found was very talented.

"I've missed you" An olive branch, preemptively offered.

[succiducus]

three qajars disappeared in the same year, two returned, one never would; a brief anger rises in him, a breath dispels it. in paradise, khan was still on his own, a fact that his late husband would appreciate and one that made him uneasy; if those who had once loved him fled at the first sign of him, he wondered what that meant for his character. "perhaps," rostam whispers, "or those who found it understood the worth of keeping good things hidden from the outside world..."

sharp teeth traumatize cheek until the taste of iron registers in his mind, a subtle smile finds his eyes despite the way he feels his lips tremble at the admission. "really?" rostam questions with a teasing point. "funny then that i did not receive any letters from your adventures to foreign lands, hm?" he grins.

[ncrrctcr]

The jab pierces into them and burns as badly as the sultan had expected. They have nothing but the truth to offer, embarrassing as it may be. Farhad lowers their head, swallows and counts. 'At the count of seven, I will speak'. 'At the count of twenty—'.

"I was ashamed," finally, they speak. They have had time to think about it, to try and write to others, rather than only to themself. At the very least, the distance gave them a lot of room for introspection. "And scared. I realized my absence was an even greater burden than my presence. But I couldn't bring myself to return."

[ncrrctcr]

They have been looking for Nabil, too. The sultan does not regret getting on the wrong ship, but the trip was more mentally and emotionally draining than expected due to the encounters they faced there, as if going so long without company wasn't bad enough. Curious, how they had spent most of their life on their own, but a single year with Nabil caused them to miss him terribly whenever they were apart.

"Yes, please," and they don't even wait for the man to hug them, before they rest their head on his shoulder. "It has been a long week. How was the Sagres?"

[umitvar]

once the words reach his ears, and he can see his friend stepping towards him, nabil doesn't hesitate a second before doing the same. arms wrap around their figure, a hand on their back, rubbing circles into the fabric of their shirt. doesn't pull back, just yet. "i am glad you are safe." physically, at the very least, it seems they are. emotionally, nabil cannot help but worry as well. "it was alright. until..." intentionally leaves the sentence unfinished, before changing the topic. "what about on yours? how did the travel go?"

[ncrrctcr]

"So far the attempts on my family have been a one-time occurrence," it is nowhere near a joke, merely an answer to the sentence the man doesn't dare to finish. The poisoning of the late queen doesn't bother Farhad as much as it perhaps should — even them had been uneasy, in fear that thinking too much about it would send them into a state of panic. That, unfortunately, did not happen. Perhaps because they did have enough on their mind already.

"The travel was fine. I like the ocean... it is soothing. But I met—," a pause, a deep breath. Picturing the words as something physical, like a thread to unravel or a mouthful of water to spit out, helps the sultan produce them, "I met Rostam's spouse, and his brother."

[succiducus]

for a moment, as his eyes adjust to darkness and the familiarity of bookish dust settles in his nostrils, he might've sworn, with their back turned to him, that khan had been standing before him once more. it happened rarely; in moments where he was alone, he would swear to hearing his voice on the air or seeing the ghostly flutters of his robes around corners - with ariyan in ethiopia, dressed in golds and jewels as the regent of persia, it had punched grief so hard back into his gut that he hadn't known what to do. however, this time it was different. to see familiar shoulders and rounded ears, it settles something inside of him. a frown follows a soft smile; they were okay after-all.

rostam uses a shaky breath to announce his presence, his voice follows it, quiet as not to startle them too fiercely out of their thoughts. "what is this one of...?" the persian on his tongue is stuttered - would farhad believe him a monster too?

[ncrrctcr]

A soft gasp follows the man's words, but his voice, despite themself, brings momentary comfort. Familiarity from a simpler time. "A deserted archipelago. One they thought deserted, at least. They found people living there, speaking a language no one knew. I assume they never returned there, as there aren't any further reports on the place." A shame, because the artist who illustrated the insects the expedition found was very talented.

"I've missed you" An olive branch, preemptively offered.

[what-iz-life]

i’m a very observant person, so if you think i didn’t notice, i did. i just decided to keep quiet.

[ncrrctcr]

Silence falls between them, broken only by the indifferent sound of the waves.

Like a mouthful of air, it fills their chest: understanding. But it is not of the kind and forgiving type. It is not the cerebral type, the type that can be put into words, nor the kind that comes from grasping another's reasons. They do not know the whys or the hows, and at this moment the sultan barely cares — those may rekindle their anger or redirect it somewhere else, but neither would change the present, nor quell their grief.

It is a deeper, empathetic kind of understanding. Permeable. It soaks in a sorrow that isn't theirs, even though they barely comprehend it.

Like a mouthful of air, it starts with relief, but starts to hurt when their lungs are brimming. Restricted by their ribs, it forms a knot in their throat instead, suffocating, attempting to escape by any means possible.

The shaking of their hands becomes unbearable, and Farhad brings them to their face, covering their eyes and tangling their fingers in their hair, pulling. As their breathing grows erratic and breaks into hitched sobbing, they start curling into themself, knees slowly giving in until Farhad is sitting on the wet floor, trembling.

[thenxghtwemxt]

Somewhere between Turkey and Madagascar, Rahmi learned to stop being a coward in a fight. Lessons learned in facing his demons, with all their fangs and blunt demeanors, face on. But nothing prepares him for a top to spin until it is unraveled. Farhad's cracks showing slowly, until they shatter. A nervous lump builds in his throat, piercing into the guilt that is always there. Always present.

"I--" No words of solace, certainly no remarks of comfort. There is a threat of tears, building at the corner of his eyes. But Rahmi has the sense not to cry. He is not the one who has lost everything. "I am not worthy of your company." Not anymore, not after everything. Rubbing his flat, sweaty palms against his palms, Rahmi backs away. "I will never not be sorry."

[ncrrctcr]

End.

[classiqals]

Even when eyes connected && their gazes met, briefly but impactful, Ariyan felt no more enlightened to the inner thoughts of the sultan than before. They both padded through the interaction with tight-lips, unfeeling && untelling.

The question caused Ariyan's heart to sink, ever so slightly. " No. His room has been left untouched by me. " It wasn't their place to meddle in such affairs; leaving it to Rostam, or to Khan's remaining family, should they see fit to make such decisions. Ari had selected the second nicest room to be their own in the Persian palace.

" I do hope your extended absence has not been on behalf of me. "

[ncrrctcr]

"Good." The answer satisfies them, to some extent. There is still a slight bitterness they didn't even know they felt before Ariyan mentioned the concept of home. The palace was now very distant in their mind, but their memories of it were not. Trying to invoke the picture of someone else walking through its hallways and eating where their family used to, it somehow doesn't feel right. Like leaving something on a table, and finding it slightly to the left from where you remember putting it.

"I don't see how that could have been a reason — I did not know you until just know. I had my own motives. I liked it where I stayed, for example. Besides, would my presence not be uncomfortable? You and I are strangers, Rostam is no longer my brother, and it was, as you said, my home first."

[ncrrctcr]

@succiducus ( rostam, underground map gallery)

This place has quickly become their favorite in the whole palace. It is dark and quiet, and often empty, after the first few days of activity when everyone wanted to see everything their hosts had to offer, then forgot about the most boring parts.

Farhad finds it far from boring, however. Not only they appreciate the introspective atmosphere of it, but the sultan has also been meticulously reading through the maps and records every time they visit. So focused they are, that they fail to notice the presence of someone else in the room entirely.

[xsecretkeepers-deactivated20250]

To see them again, it is such a strange sight. They are just as much a ghost as if Khan was once again standing in front of her. Someone she had once had, who had vanished before her eyes. "I was. Tell me Farhad, where were you? I find it so hard to keep track. The Kōtetsu, with Rostam perhaps? Or the Sagres with Egypt?" She takes in a shaking breath. So much of her time has been taken up trading barbs with Rostam, it is hard to shake but she does not want to fight with Farhad. "It seems we have both inherited a terrible family trait of running." Him to Egypt and her to China.

She shakes her head at his question. "It was not quite what I expected on my honeymoon. I did not know her but Angelo... Angelo is familiar with the family." Expression pensive she muses, "I did not know her, yet I feel a level of empathy for her, for her entire plight." A usurped queen fighting for her throne. "This does not feel like a good omen, for any of us."

[ncrrctcr]

"Neither. I was on the Kōtetsu, but not with him." Whatever hostility her tone carried was not entirely lost on them, even though Farhad could not locate its source nor target exactly. It made just as much sense for her to be bitter at them as it did at Rostam.

"I suppose it is not. Still... congratulations. On your marriage, I mean." They sincerely had no idea when or how it had happened. They didn't know the man, either. He is an Emperor, that much they know, albeit a very recent one. Quite the match, politically speaking.

"I'm sorry, I could not stay. Not like that." The situation was bad enough right after Khan died, to also risk their... condition becoming known to the people, or worrying their family. A violent, trembling mess of a person, they were, unable to speak, sometimes losing control over their body. It gives them the chills, just to remember it. "What exactly happened between you two, Arshiya? Between you, and Rostam."

[ncrrctcr]

@gloriousncss ( victoria, or whoever you want! ,- during the mysteries of osiris gala)

This seemed to be the spot reserved for the wallflowers, figuratively. If people noticed them at all, they didn't seem to care, which made it the perfect place for Farhad to be. For the most part, they are an unfamiliar face, and only the most educated would take a correct guess about them being the missing sultan in the first try.

While they would rather go without talking at all, they clear their throat as they approach. After all, Farhad too would like a chance to say they'd rather not have other people around when they were hiding from society. "May I stay here?"

[ncrrctcr]

@xforgedsecrets ( arshiya )

They find her in China's apartments, after some asking around and a lot more dreading the moment of seeing Arshiya.

"You were aboard the Naglar," it is an odd thing for a greeting, but despite their many attempts at coming up with something appropriate to say to the sister they abandoned in her moment of greatest need, Farhad hasn't really found anything. So they just choose not to mention it.

They were a burden, back then, and their presence in such a pitiful state would not have made things better in any way, or so they think, but that doesn't change the reality that their sister was on her own.

"Are you all right, sister?" They would be quite shaken, in her place.

[umitvar]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: PAÇO IMPERIAL PALACE, TWIN SOULS COURTYARD 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌: PRINCE NABIL BADI 𝐓𝐎: SULTAN FARHAD QAJAR ( @ncrrctcr )

once they have settled in their rooms, and nabil has the chance to leave, he doesn't hesitate. the rooms and the palace is so new that he has a difficult time navigating around the halls, and more often than not, he walks into a wrong place, and gets helped by one of the palace attendants as to which way he should go. with farhad on his mind, he hopes to find them soon, as he fears all of this couldn't have been an easy week for them. luck strikes as he quickly walks through the courtyard, and once he spots his friend, a bit of tension from his shoulders releases, though doesn't turn into a smile just yet. "farhad!" calling, his feet quickly makes their way to them. "i have been looking for you. how have you been?" a hand reaches out, to pull them into an embrace, but stops before making contact. "may i?"

[ncrrctcr]

They have been looking for Nabil, too. The sultan does not regret getting on the wrong ship, but the trip was more mentally and emotionally draining than expected due to the encounters they faced there, as if going so long without company wasn't bad enough. Curious, how they had spent most of their life on their own, but a single year with Nabil caused them to miss him terribly whenever they were apart.

"Yes, please," and they don't even wait for the man to hug them, before they rest their head on his shoulder. "It has been a long week. How was the Sagres?"

[thenxghtwemxt]

No one looks at him too closely. Not even during his reign as the Sultan of Turkey, did eyes every truly land upon his person. Rahmi was at once a figure head and a stranger, hidden behind the smoke and mirrors set by his wife and advisors. And throughout these meetings of anguish, none look upon him. None, until Farhad.

It is at once revealing as it is disheartening. A pendulum that swings every which way, in the torrent of emotions and gnawing guilt. Their question is poignant; hitting right into the drum of his chest, demanding an answer. Rahmi finally steadies his hands, dropping them to his sides.

"For the rest of my days, long or short. I shall regret it forever." He says through a clipped, tight voice. "And I will never meet my maker, for the sins I have committed." Condemned, forever. An adequate punishment to the cruelest of crimes.

[ncrrctcr]

Silence falls between them, broken only by the indifferent sound of the waves.

Like a mouthful of air, it fills their chest: understanding. But it is not of the kind and forgiving type. It is not the cerebral type, the type that can be put into words, nor the kind that comes from grasping another's reasons. They do not know the whys or the hows, and at this moment the sultan barely cares — those may rekindle their anger or redirect it somewhere else, but neither would change the present, nor quell their grief.

It is a deeper, empathetic kind of understanding. Permeable. It soaks in a sorrow that isn't theirs, even though they barely comprehend it.

Like a mouthful of air, it starts with relief, but starts to hurt when their lungs are brimming. Restricted by their ribs, it forms a knot in their throat instead, suffocating, attempting to escape by any means possible.

The shaking of their hands becomes unbearable, and Farhad brings them to their face, covering their eyes and tangling their fingers in their hair, pulling. As their breathing grows erratic and breaks into hitched sobbing, they start curling into themself, knees slowly giving in until Farhad is sitting on the wet floor, trembling.

[a-study-in-bullshit]

"I love you , I'm glad we're friends"

[ncrrctcr]

@umitvar

[classiqals]

With an equally unreadable tone, Ariyan answered simply - " Please, that would not be necessary. " Though, in truth, they would have quite liked to see such a thing. Best not lean too heavily into such selfish desires, too soon.

Once, Ariyan had anticipated being either allies or enemies with the Persian royals. When Rostam was their betrothed, the first time, they had studied them, reading up on the history of such family, the history between their nation to Turkey; they knew the statistics, they knew the lore.

But Ariyan knew not them. Any of them. It was unnerving to not understand one's potential enemy; it was unnerving to not yet be able to know if Farhad was an enemy.

" Of course. I live in your home - or what was... your home? " This, said quizzically, hoping for an answer. " It feels wrong to not at least give you a greeting. "

[ncrrctcr]

Staring into the vastness of the ocean, Farhad's eyes look distracted, but their mind is not; rather, it very intently examines the sultan's words, seeking, too, anything that will give them an understanding of this person. The choice of words is a better indicator of motives than the tone, or even their content. Words are, after all, their strong suit, regardless of what people may initially expect.

"Homes are fickle things. At least, for the living." The sultan might return someday, or they might not (the thought frightens them), but one thing remains true: in their eyes, it is still their brother's home. Their tone stays calm and pensive as their eyes wander briefly to Ariyan's face. "Did you find it comfortable? Do you sleep in my brother's bed?"

[thenxghtwemxt]

It is said that grief is love's way of persevering. Throughout his time in Ethiopia, he's born witness to such love - the tears of his brother, the fury of Arshiya, even the cruelty of Haspira. And now, as he stares back at the youngest Sultan of Qajar. Well, Rahmi bears witness to another type of grief. One that lives in the bones, matter-of-fact and unshakeable. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, hands twisted together like the knots in his chest.

"It is true." Rahmi answers, once his voice returns to its usual octave. Dark eyes unmoved from between their brows. The shame present, even as certainty persists. It is the only thing he can give the Qajar's; a modicum of closure. "Everything that they say. It is true." There are parts to it that are complicated - the manipulation of his advisors, the tricks of his wife. But the facts are true, and Rahmi knows better than to obfuscate.

[ncrrctcr]

Deep down, they hope his answer will spark a reaction. Any kind of reaction, really. They wished for rage, but were willing to settle for relief. Neither came. The sultan's hands fidget restlessly and tremble, but that is the whole extent of the response his confession gets.

Farhad's eyes meet Rahmi's face silently. An unpractical thing to have, faces: able of conveying a myriad of complex emotions, but just as capable to falsify and fabricate them. They've never been adept at deciphering the subtleties of expressions, but what would be the point, when people could lie through them as well? Still, Farhad had spent a good part of their younger years being scolded for staring too intensely in an attempt to find patterns that would allow them to read those expressions, to no avail.

What they learned instead was intuition, but even that is unreliable — illogical, and impossible to put into words. Incomplete. That alone won't give them the rest of the truth.

Staring into the man's eyes, Farhad chooses to trust him.

"Do you regret it?"

[classiqals]

Surprise registered on the commander's features at the request - in truth, he had not thought they'd really ask. " Oh, of course. Um... here. " Tian Feng extended the bottle, eyebrows still hovering above their usual resting place as he relinquished the last of his vice.

He didn't know this face. Not too uncommon; the world was changing, after all. So many hands had exchanged power over the globe; so many alliances broken; the political scenescape was a far cry from what it had been even just a year prior. Tian Feng had been in the mountains alone, anyway, following China's defeat to Japan...

" Should anyone happen to ask, though, you did not get that from Commander Zhang, you just stumbled upon it. " He wanted to avoid any incident, naturally.

[ncrrctcr]

The hesitation is completely lost on the sultan, who politely takes the bottle and holds it at a reasonable distance from their lips, not to touch it directly, and gives it back as they savor it attentively, although there are only droplets left inside. Then, they simply nod to themself. They've never been the kind to overindulge, so a sip has them more than sated — their curiosity, and their taste buds alike.

Farhad's mouth opens to produce a question, and closes again as their mind wraps around what exactly is being asked of them, and maybe also the reason for it.

"So I take it you are not allowed to drink... Commander," if they understood the situation right.