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aria-i-adagio · 5 years

Text

Sorry, but I Don’t Recall the Crime

Fandom: The Arcana

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4500

Previous Chapter Masterpost

Portia lets us sleep in the next morning. The sun is high enough in the sky that the light is indirect when I open my eyes, roused by a loud knock at the door and a shouted warning that it’s her, and we have two minutes to get decent or she’s coming in anyway. I’m still laying on top of Julian. He blinks his eyes in confusion and sits up as I roll off him, grabbing for the robe that I abandoned on the back of the sofa.

“Morning.” He yawns, and I pick his pants up off the floor and toss them to him. There’s another knock at the door and he seems to wake up a little more, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed and pulls them on. I knot the sash around my waist and stumble to the door, opening for Portia, who’s carrying a tray with pastries and an extra large pot of coffee.

“Wakey, wakey,” she chirps, just as chipper as ever. “It’s nearly noon.”

Ilya groans and holds his head in his hands. Portia grins as she pours a cup of thick black coffee for him and offers it to him. “I still remember how you like it.” He takes the cup and lifts his head, blinking sleepily at her. Portia freezes for a moment, then steps back. “Ilya, your eye!”

“Oh shit!” He starts, nearly spilling the coffee across his bare chest. “No, no, no, Pasha it’s okay, I swear.”

I put a hand on Portia’s shoulder. She’s trembling. “Really. It is.”

“What happened to you?”

“Well, um.” He grins up at her and takes a drink of coffee. “I don’t exactly know. But I’m still kicking, so...”

Portia sighs and reaches out to touch his hair, pushing the long bangs back from his face. “What did you get yourself into, brother mine?”

“The usual. Trouble.”

“And now we’ve got to get you out of it.” She turns back to the tray on the table and grabs herself a pastry. "Eat up. No sense in trying to problem solve on an empty stomach."

Julian bolts the coffee, stretches his back, and finds his shirt in the floor before meandering around to the sofa to join me. Portia has pulled up a chair opposite the table and is working on a mug of tea. I'm settled in with coffee and another one of the heavenly almond pastries, waiting for the caffeine to kick in.

"What's the connection you think?” Portia muses.

"What do you mean?” Julian is starting his second cup of coffee, and I suspect it'll take three before he's good for much.

"Between you and Lucio? Being in his room, with that ghost triggered one of your headaches - I guess, I'll call it a memory headache.”

“Then the same thing happened when I mentioned about the Lazaret,” Julian adds. It’s more a mumble than a real statement, entirely different from his usual conversation style.

“Okay, so, I don't know, seems like there could be a connection there. For that matter, Ilya, if you're getting the same kind of headaches, then you're involved as well. And the way that ghost talked to the both of you - puppy, dove? What the hell was that?” Once Portia gets going, she’s easily as wordy as her brother.

"I, uh -” Julian sits up and rubs at the back of his neck then pushes his hand through his hair flipping more of it over his eyes. "I, uh, knew Lucio for a long time. Back when he was mercenary and lost his arm. As for Dema, well, he'd always hit on anyone who caught his eye. Or maybe she and I -”

"Yeah, yeah, you two were together - you both forget - blah. You're such a dumbass sometimes, Ilyushka. I mean, how the hell do you forget-”

"Lucio is a creepy fuck of a ghost." I interrupt Portia's commentary before Julian can turn any redder. I rub my upper arms trying to push away any memory of the ghostly claws. I suppose I should be glad that so far the Count had limited himself to touching me over my clothes. Fuck that.

"And don't forget that Milady is also missing memories, just a lot more of them than anyone else."

"Except Dema." Julian sets his cup down and crosses his arms behind his head, leaning to stretch out his back again.

"The most salient point is that no one remembers exactly how Lucio died.” I try to get the conversation back on topic and away from sibling squabbles. “The people who do remember that night, didn't see. Valerius only arrested you because you were there."

"You're adorable when you use words like salient. You know that."

"Oh, brother," Portia groans. "The other courtiers are pretty fishy if you ask me."

"I can't see any of them acting alone, except maybe -"

"- Valdemar." Julian uncrosses his hands from behind his head and leans forward on the table with a groan. "They have absolutely no scruples about killing. But spontaneous combustion is really too tidy for their style."

"How can spontaneous combustion be too tidy?”

"Valdemar likes to have an intact body. For, um, reasons. Burning doesn't leave much to work with."

Portia shudders and looks slightly disgusted. She shakes her to dismiss the thought. "What if they acted together? They could be covering for each other by pushing Milady to believe Julian did it."

"Valerius suggested that as much as he suggested anything."

"Ugh. You didn't get anything really useful from him, did you?”

"Just more questions." I suspect that some of what Valerius is keeping to himself would be helpful, but I don't think he has a much better grasp of Lucio's death than we do. "Do you think Lucio knows who killed him? His ghost certainly didn't think it was you."

"What ghosts do and don't know is outside my area of expertise. And I don't want to - I mean I don't want you to go back there. Either of you." He pours himself another cup of coffee. Portia peels an orange and divides sections between the three of us.

"What do you think he meant by 'not for long'?”

"It was about being trapped in that form. Could he be trying to bring himself back from the dead?”

"Can't be done." Julian pops a piece of orange in his mouth and talks around it. "Dead is dead is dead."

"What did he mean about Asra stealing a new body for his dead lover then?”

Julian shrugs. "That's another question for Asra."

"You said he was doing some sort of magic with blood." The image from my dream the other night of Asra cutting into Julian's palm and letting the blood drip onto the cardinal points of a sigil floats behind my eyes. Julian nods, rubbing his hand as he does. "If it were possible to create a new body, whether to bring someone back from the dead or for someone who was ill to take over, it would have to involve something at least as powerful as blood magic. I mean, I had to use a blood spell to coax Lucio onto materializing at all last night."

"You did what? Dema!”

"It's okay, Julian. I time limited it." At least, I think I did. I hope I did. I don’t care for what it means if I didn’t.

"Have you heard of spells that would bring someone back from the dead?” Portia asks.

I pause and hope that some arcane information about corporeality, resurrection, and enfleshment will just materialize in my consciousness, as information so often does with no explanation of when, how, or where I learned it. "No. But researching might be a start. Maybe if I knew what kind of magic was being used. But-" I groan and ball my hands up in frustration. "There's no time to be indirect."

"So, we corner all the courtiers and beat it out of them?" Portia runs her hands together. She's joking - I think. But there's a glint in her eyes that makes me wonder. "I'm sure Maz would help with that."

"No." Julian shakes his head. "I don't want you near them. Not you, not Dema, not Mazelinka."

"What about Volta?”

"What about her?"

"Do you think she might give us information? She doesn't seem as bad as the others."

"We could offer her food. Maybe? She keeps the servants running all night bringing snacks to her chambers." Portia doesn't look quite convinced by the idea. "But, they all say that she's actually nice to them."

Julian shakes his head, then sets his coffee aside and stretches out as much as possible on the sofa, with his head resting in my lap. "What if instead of showing that someone else did it, we prove that I didn't do it? I mean, if I can find evidence to convince myself of that, then certainly it will convince the Countess."

"You can't use magic, can you?”

He looks up at me and touches his throat. "Other than this? Don't even want to."

"And is there any scientific explanation for the spontaneous combustion of a person?”

"Not that I know of."

Portia catches where my logic is going and grins. "So you couldn't have done it! That wasn't a natural fire."

Julian gnaws at his bottom lip, looking thoughtful. "I suppose, but that doesn't explain why I was there. And I was there."

Portia stands and starts clearing the table. "I'll work on Milady. Try to get the question of how the fire started in the first place in her mind. Maybe you two could work in the library? Ilya might find something in his desk. And you probably won't be bothered there. Since I have the keys. Now. If something happens, go to my cottage. Through the maze then straight back. Dema, you remember, right?"

“Oh, the fixer upper one out past the orchard? That’s yours now? Nice, sis.”

“And fixed up nicely, I’ll have you know. Get dressed. Back in half an hour.”

***

Portia leads us to the library, peering around corners as she goes for passers by, even though I've glamoured Julian's hair to appear black and tossed it over his eyepatch. She unlocks the door quickly, deft hands finding the multiple keys and turning them in the locks. Julian walks into the room slowly, pushing his hair out of his eyes as the glamour fades. Sunlight from the windows catches the highlights, making it look even redder than before. He looks around the room and turns slowly, as if in a trance.

“Alright, you two, I’m going to lock the door behind you. I should be back in a few hours.”

The keys turn loudly in the locks as Portia secures us inside the library. Julian is still standing in a ray of sunshine, the pale cream of the palace livery a stark change from his usual black on black, but it suits him just as well. He looks a little lost in the moment, like he's soaking in information directly from the surroundings and it's a bit too much to comprehend. I take one of his hands in mine and squeeze his fingers.

"Come back to me, Julian." Asra's said the same thing to me so many times, patiently gripping my hand.

"Sorry." Julian shakes his head. "Sorry, I spent a lot of time in here."

"It's okay."

He walks across the floor to the pile of pillows that I had curled up in the other day to try and decipher his journals. "Asra worked here. He had a veritable fortress of books stacked around him. And he napped all the time." He pauses and looks back at me. "Does he still do that?"

"He does." I'm bad about napping too, especially when I'm having trouble sleeping at night. It's a wonder we manage to keep the shop running on any sort of schedule.

Julian crosses the room, to the little niche that his desk was tucked into. "Tidier than how I left it. At least, how I think I left it." He picks up one of the journals and thumbs through it before setting it aside with a visible shudder. "Nothing but bad memories there." He picks up the folded letter next, reads the first couple lines, then sinks into the chair and leans over the desk, head cradled in his hands as his shoulders start to shake. I run my hands along his shoulders, trying to soothe whatever emotion has taken hold of him.

"She was eleven when I left home." His voice, when he finally speaks, is choked. "Eleven! And I didn't see her again until the other day. I've got to be the worst brother in the world. It's almost worse that she's willing to forgive me everything." He snaps his fingers. "Just like that."

"Julian." I lean over him, pressing my lips to the crown of his head. "She loves you. You're still her brother."

"So she finds me, just to lose me again?"

"We're going to sort this out. You're not a murderer."

Julian picks up the journal his was thumbing through and then tosses it to the side. "Are you sure about that? Maybe not Lucio, but . . .” His voice trails off as I run my fingers through his hair. His shoulders slump and he collapses over the desk, head in his arms. “Why do you have such faith in me?”

“Just do.” I can’t explain it, but I don’t feel any need to try either, so I stay quiet and rub his shoulders until he lifts his head off the desk. He twists in the chair and I lean over and touch my lips to his forehead.

“Thank you.” His voice is a breath more than speech. He closes his eyes for a moment, then blinks them back open. “I should sort through all this, I suppose. See if anything here truly is important. Maybe you could look through the books? See if you can find anything about how to magic someone back from the dead?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Not really sure where to start.” I ruffle his hair again for good measure as he goes back to the papers stacked on the desk.

It takes me a while to orient myself in the library. The collection is impression, both in breadth and depth. The shelves go to the ceiling. There are books well beyond my reach, but there are also ladders attached with rollers that make them easy to move. The section for books on magic is in a dark corner toward the back, and I have to summon a light before I can begin to make out the titles. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know where to start, but I am nearly certain that raising the dead would require blood. And well, that’s the only lead I have.

The majority of the magic tomes are covered in a thick layer of dust. When I find the shelf with books on the less respectable practices, I’m surprised to find that these books are less dusty than the other. They’ve been neglected, but while the others appear to have sat untouched for a decade or more (some are complete with cobwebs!), the ones with titles that suggest what I might need only have a light coating of dust. I gather the ones that look most promising and retreat to Asra’s pile of cushions. It’s under a window, and the afternoon sunlight pouring in creates the perfect space to curl up and read.

I scan the content pages of the books that have them and set several aside that appear to be mostly dedicated to describing the acts associated with sects that use blood magic in the most inflammatory language possible. Heresiology is not what I need at the moment. A book in the middle of the stack looks more promising. It’s ancient, hand written, and lacks a table of contents, but unlike the others, it’s an actual book of spells. I thumb through the book, scanning the descriptions for any key words.

The sun is getting low in the sky when Julian plops down next to me and draps an arm around my shoulders. I set the book on my knees and turn my face to him. “Find anything?”

With a heavy sigh, he shows me an empty palm, then with a mischievous grin, closes his hand and opens it again to reveal an iron key. I roll my eyes at the trick. As he makes the key disappear again, presumably to a pocket somewhere in his coat. “What’s that for?”

He shrugs, then pulls me closer to him. "Not sure. But you ever just get a sense that something is exactly what you're looking for."

"That's happened."

"Yes, well, that and none of the papers were much use. Research notes. Fruitless research notes for that matter. Barren. As useful as a mirage in the bloody desert. Not to mention that a few were, in fact, bloody." He lays down next to me and settles his head in my lap, looking up at me through the hair falling over his face. His eyepatch is missing, presumably removed to make reading easier. "This key was the only other thing left. Any luck with the books?”

"This one might have some useful information in it."

"Mmm . . . Don't let me stop you. Just going to close my eyes for a few minutes." He snuggles deeper into the cushions, and tilts his head to the side. I trail my finger done the center of his nose, winning a smile from him before returning to the book.

I flip through several more pages of spells and symbols, annotated with dense notes about the theory behind why they just might work and stern precautions about their use. An illuminated page with colored calligraphy and gilt lettering introduces a new chapter: On Interaction with the Spirits of the Departed.

My reading slows, and I turn the pages with care, trying to commit the sigils to memory - at least, passive memory, enough to recognize them should I see them again. These are significantly more complex than the one I used to speak with Lucio. One allows for summoning a specific spirit to a location. Another provides a means to anchor a ghost to a specific location. Quite reasonably, it's paired with a banishing spell.

A thin scrap of parchment marks the next page. The pamplimset is covered with notes in a very familiar script. The same script that labels many of the bottles and boxes in the shop. The same that leaves notes for me in random locations - ones that I'll surely find, but won't expect - when a certain someone has wandered away. Asra.

Underlined and circled at the bottom is a single word: almost.

I set the note aside. Underneath it there page is taken up by an intricate diagram, one that would be impossible to recreate without proper tools, no small amount of skill, and significant time. I run my finger up the page to the heading: Possession of a Body.

I shouldn't be surprised, not when Julian has told me that Asra was using blood and with what Lucio's ghost had shrieked about Asra stealing a body from him. But still, I didn't expect to find tangible evidence. Perhaps I didn't want to believe that Asra had really been involved in something so potentially dangerous and so deeply unethical as inviting a spirit to possess the body of someone else.

No. I don't want to think about it.

I fold the parchment note back in the book and set it aside. Later. I'll deal with that later. For now, I gently lift Julian's head and replace my thigh with a small cushion. He mumbles in protest, but settles back as soon as I'm curled up next to him. My head's on his chest; it's his turn to be a pillow for a bit.

"Mmm... Taking a break?" He lifts a hand and trails his fingers through my hair.

"Just resting my eyes."

"You should do that. Getting late anyway."

As soon as my eyes shut, there’s a noise from outside of the library, followed by a loud exclamation. “Oh, sorry Milady! Slippery fingers again!”

“It’s quite alright, Portia.” The countess’s dulcet voice is at a normal level, but carries easily through the door.

Julian bolts upright and scrambles out of the floor before reaching back down to pull me to my feet. “Shit. Shit! What do we do? I know, you hide, then when Nadia comes in, run. She’ll be too busy arresting me to notice you.” I shake my head and he groans. “Don’t you understand? You’ll hang with me.”

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

He spins around. “Maybe we could get out the window? You can’t, like, turn into a giant bird or something? Uh, can you?”

“Yeah, no.” I pull us over to where a shelf will hide us from direct view of the door and let my awareness drift around the room. Portia said there were portals and passages all through the palace. If I can just find one of those. Keys turn in the locks again, tumblers falling into place. How many were there again? Then . . . there it is! And it’s close to where we are. I pull Julian with me to the wall and touch a symbol engraved there. Unlike the portal leading the Lucio’s wing, the magic of this one is Asra’s. If my luck holds, it’ll lead to my shop and safety.

The wall seems to open, edges glowing around the passageway. Not to my shop, but into the garden with the willow tree and the fountain. It’ll do. Especially since I can hear the door opening. I shove Julian through, hissing for him to go to Portia’s cottage, and close the portal before he can insist that I follow. Portia and I together should be able to keep the Countess busy enough that she won’t be looking for him.

Beyond, I hear the mechanisms of the door turning as it opens, and I step out from behind the shelf, trying to look like I had simply been looking for a book. Nadia is as collected and graceful as every, one step behind her Portia is wringing her hands in worry. “Oh, Countess, hello.”

“Dema, dear, it’s good to see that you’re feeling better. Portia told me that a headache simply knocked you down last night after visiting the Count’s old wing.”

“Thank you, my lady. I thought a quiet day working in the library might make sense.”

“Yes.” She looks over to Julian’s desk, where the papers and portfolios are now arranged into haphazard stacks. “Did you happen to find anything?”

“No.” I shake my head, trying to mime disappointment. “I thought I might try to research some magic that would account for state of Lucio’s chambers.”

“Portia did mention that the burn marks didn’t look like the usual pattern for a fire.”

“Not at all.” I shake my head. “I think that only some sort of magic could explain it.”

Nadia presses her lips together considering the statement. She seems about to say something when the chamberlain enters the library followed by a very familiar figure. One with a lot of explaining to do. “My lady, you have another visitor - the magician Asra.”

Nadia turns and Asra bows to her, eyes twinkling as he does. “Your Excellency.”

Her head tilts slightly to the side, and while I can’t see her expression, I feel the contemplating look that she gives Asra. Asra only smiles at her, one of his perfect winning smiles that could charm the wings off a butterfly. She recovers with the smallest shake of her head. “I am pleased to finally meet my favorite magician’s mentor; although . . . well, nevermind.” She glances back at me. “Both of you will dine with me this evening?”

“Of course, Countess.” Asra accepts for both of us, not I would expect that there is any other option.

“Very well. And should you wish to stay the night, I believe the guest room beside your apprentice’s is available. Dema, would you take your master with you? I’ll send Portia presenting with dining attire for the both of you.”

Portia shoots me a questioning look as the Countess sweeps out of the library.

“It’s okay, Portia.” I emphasize okay. “I know my way.”

Alone in the library, Asra quickly closes the distance between us, pulling me into a tight hug. “I got worried when you didn’t come back last night. Or today. Then I realized you’d be here.” His fingers trace my jawline, ever so gently, and without thinking I tilt my head into his hand, as his thumb brushes over my cheek. “Are you alright? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do you? You know that?”

Nothing he wouldn’t do? I believe him. I’m not sure I want to, but I do. Even with his eyes as gentle as they can be, I believe that there truly might not be anything that he wouldn’t do. I reach up and touch his cheek.

“I’m fine, Asra.” Should I drag him over the pile of books I had gathered and ask him to explain the note now? Perhaps not until I know a little more, when I have a better chance of pinning him down and avoiding his deflections. I take his hand in mine. “Come on, when the Countess says dress for dinner, she really means it.”

“Oh, I remember,” he says with a smile. “She always put together the best looks for her guests as well.”

My rooms are not so far from the library. We walk in silence, Asra seemingly content to just hold my hand. I close the door behind us with a sigh, happy for the relative privacy.

“Tell me about the maid? Portia, I think? I don’t recognize her from before.”

“She’s Julian’s sister.”

“His sister?” Asra looks surprised for a moment. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

I catch him up on the prior day, leaving out most of the details. His face falls as I describe searching Lucio’s wing, especially when I tell him that the ghost was able to touch me.

“He shouldn’t be able to have that much of a physical presence.”

“You don’t sound surprised that he’s there.”

Asra shakes his head. “No, he was never one to let go, not of anything. I can’t imagine that he would accept being dead. And, with everything that happened then . . .”

“Asra, what did happen?”

He closes his eyes, expression becoming so melancholy that I can’t stop myself from cradling his face in my hands. “I don’t remember exactly what I did. Really. I don’t. I wish that I did.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine. “Maybe I could protect you better if I did.”

A/N: Chapter title from Portugal, the Man

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#the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfiction #julian devorak #portia devorak #julian x mc #julian x apprentice #asra alnazar #fan apprentice #dema #my writing #whatever i've done

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youre-on-a-starship · 7 years

Text

Prompt: “Don’t let me die.” For @whatif-animagineblog‘s birthday challenge!

Word Count: 1,995

Author’s Note: Happy birthday, darlin’! I hope you like it! I’m so sorry it was out a day late, it’s been in my drafts for like three days waiting for me to make a header.

Cryllic Key: Боже - Bozhe - God, Да - Da - yes

“Pasha!”

You pressed your hands to either side of Pavel’s face, gently lifting his eyelids with the pads of your thumbs. His pupils constricted. The navigator groaned.

“Pasha! Come on, man, I know you’re in there.”

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you shook him.

“Y/N?” he moaned.

“Yeah, Pash, it’s me. Come on, wake up.”

“V… vhat…?” His eyelids fluttered open. “Vhat happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, rubbing your hands up and down his arms as he came to.

He breathed deeply and crinkled his nose. The whole ship smelled like the inside of a locker. He looked around at the fallen bodies on the bridge.

“Vhat…”

“Something’s very wrong. I need your help, okay?”

“Vhat happened to everyone?” he sat up, looking across the helm at Hikaru who was draped over his station.

“I’ll explain on the way, alright? Please, come with me.”

He just nodded. Struggling to his feet, he leaned over to his friend and pressed two fingers to his throat.

“Everyone seems to be alive still,” you clarified, winding a hand under him and laying your palm flat across his chest to help him stay vertical. “I think there’s something airborne. I need you to help me find out where it’s coming from.”

“Vhy me, vhy not Mr. Scott?” Pavel asked as he let you lead him across the bridge past the reclined body of the Captain to the turbolift.

“I tried, he’s not responding to me,” you admitted. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel like I’ve been drinking for a veek,” he pressed his hand to his head. “But I sink I can manage.”

“Good,” you said, pressing the command for engineering. “I did what I was able to at the station on deck 6. The best I could elicit was that there was air quality controller malfunction.”

“Are ve ze only two awake?” Pavel asked, placing a hand on your shoulder for balance.

“Yeah.”

“How did you vake up?” he asked.

“I never fell asleep. I’ve been in my office all morning, and I only just realized something was wrong when I came out for lunch. The best reason I can think of is that Doctor McCoy gave some experimental bronchodilator this morning for that cough I picked up on shore leave. It must be doing enough for me to keep me conscious.”

“Not ewen Mr. Spock?”

“No. So much for that superior Vulcan physiology he’s always boasting about.”

The turbolift doors swished open on the engineering deck and Pavel took the lead.

“If zere is somesing wrong viss z’atmospheric controller, I should be able to find it. Fixing it, on ze ozer hand…”

“You’ve got me. I’ll get you what you need.”

Pavel made a noise and stopped short at a control panel. He typed in his authorization code and started poking around.

“Aye, z’atmospheric calibration system is completely offline.”

“How do we fix it?”

“I can reroute power from here, but zere is a bigger problem.”

He fell silent as he read the statistics on the screen.

“So?” you prompted, touching his arm.

“Zere is… I don’t ewen know vat to call it. Some kind of foreign compound in z’air supply itself.”

“Like a biological weapon?” A shock of fear went down your spine. “I’ve been actively breathing it for hours.”

“Aye, aye.” He glanced sideways at you with a quirk of his lips. “I am running a chemical analysis now.”

As the process bar progressed, Pavel reached out and took your hand.

“You’re going to be fine,” he assured you.

“If we get the atmospheric controller back online, will that clear the… whatever it is out?” you asked, trying to take your mind off of the substance of the particulate that had likely permeated every cell in your body by now. Being awake for the duration of this incident meant that you’d inspired more air than anyone else on the ship as they were all unconscious.

“As far as I know,” Pavel said, pulling his hand back as the screen flashed the results. “Okay. It is… spores? Ve should be able to -”

The computer cut him off with a bright red popup.

“What the-” you started.

“Oh Боже,” he cursed. “Ze source of the spores appears to be on ze ship. In ze main air dispersion compartment.”

“The source?” you asked, looking over his shoulder. The blocks of text all ran together.

“Aye, zere seems to be an organic… somesing in ze main dispersion compartment. And zese spores, according to zis, are highly toxic in large quantities.”

“Peachy,” you hissed.

“How can ve possibly get close enough to it to get it out?”

“Transporter?” you suggested.

“No, zat area is highly shielded against transportation technology,” Pavel countered.

“Alright,” you straightened up. Highly toxic. No transporter. Great. “Do we get the controller back online first and then get the thing out of here?”

“I vould not recommend it,” Pavel mused, tapping at the screen. “Considering vhere zis sing is, turning on ze controller might drag it into ze turbines.”

“Fabulous,” you snapped, throwing your hand up. “Alright, fine. I guess we’re just gonna have to go in and get it out ourselves.”

“Zis is going to vork,” Pavel muttered as you sealed the wrist closures on his enviro suit.

“It’s going to work,” you reiterated.

Pavel shook his head as you dropped his hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in?” you asked.

“No,” he blurted, snapping his eyes up. “No. I cannot… I could not live viss myself if anysing happened.”

You sighed.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” you promised. “This suit is impervious to literally anything when sealed. Just get the thing in the box and get back out. We’ll fire it out an airlock and then it’s all over.”

Pavel just nodded.

You touched your palm to the side of his face briefly before dipping to retrieve the suit’s helmet.

“Ze container…”

“Just as airtight as the suit. Just get the thing into it and bring it back out,” you reiterated the plan for the hundredth time.

You lowered the helmet over his head and activated the seal. You handed him the box and stood back.

“You can do this.”

Pavel nodded again, turning to Jefferies tube access port.

“I’ll monitor all your vitals from right here, I promise,” you said when he didn’t move.

He turned back to you and stepped up to you, placing a hand on your arm.

“Don’t let me die,” he said.

“You won’t.” You stood on your toes and kissed the side of his helmet. “I won’t let anything happen. Now get in there.”

Pavel turned back and climbed into the Jefferies tube. You sealed the door behind him and stepped up to your terminal, watching the helmet cam feed. You set your comm on the top of the terminal.

“Can you hear me, Pash?”

“Да,” he groaned.

“Good,” you muttered as you tapped the terminal screen, pulling up the schematic of the tube system. At the upper end of his current tube was the access port for the air circulation system.

Pavel opened the access port and a plume of dusty, green haze puffed out. He tossed the box into the tube and climbed up after it, sealing the door behind himself.

“There’s no way to ventilate that Jefferies tube without powering on the whole system is there?” you asked.

“No,” Pavel said. “Ve’ll just have to deal viss zat later.”

“If you say so,” you muttered. “Okay, Pash, next access hatch is the one. If your readouts are accurate, the organism is ten feet from the door.”

Pavel stopped. His helmet cam was aimed directly at the access panel.

“Pash? What’s wrong?”

“Y/N,” he started, “if zis does not vork-”

“Pasha, don’t-”

“I love you.”

You pressed your lips together.

“I love you, too,” you said. “Nothing is going to happen, I promise.”

Pavel reached out and activated the panel.

The hatch slid aside and there, ten feet into the compartment, was a toaster-sized, teal mass. It pulsed periodically as though breathing, expelling a plume of thick green spores with each exhale.

“It looks like a tribble,” you mused.

“Now is not ze time,” Pavel grumbled, crawling into the compartment, pushing the box ahead of him. “Should I be able to smell this through the suit?”

“No,” you said, pulling up a schematic of his suit. If there was a leak, the spores could kill him. You scanned over every inch of the suit readouts on the screen. “Pash, I’m reading all clear over here, it might just be your imagination. Or the spores on the bridge permeated your uniform.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t panic,” you urged him. “Just get the thing in the box and get out of there.”

Pavel grumbled and pushed the box to within two feet of the mass. He crawled up next to the box and looked down at it.

“Ziss is disgusting,” he said.

“The box, Pasha.”

He opened the box and reached out to pick up the organism. It peeled off the floor with a wet slurping sound.

Pavel gagged and dropped the creature in the box, flipping the lid closed and sealing it.

“Vat about ze suit now? I’ve touched it.”

“I… hadn’t thought of that,” you said through grit teeth. “I’m on it. Just get out of the compartment and back into the Jefferies tube. I’ll get the air quality control system back online and then… we’ll figure it out.”

“Aye, aye,” Pavel said, pushing the box back the way he came and crawling after it.

Once he was back in the Jefferies tube with the hatch sealed, Pavel let out a breath.

“I am sealed. Ze actiwation control should be on screen. Just tap ze button.”

You pushed the suit schematic aside and hit the control that Pavel had left open on the screen when he set everything up.

There was a low thrumming noise and you felt a cool breeze on the back of your neck.

“I think it’s on,” you said, selecting the Jefferies tube on the screen. “Your air quality is improving.”

“Now vat about ze suit?” Pavel asked, settling into a crouch by the tube entrance.

“I’m open to ideas,” you replied, starting to search through your available options on the terminal screen. “I could try to run decon… is that even possible in that tube?”

“Not to z’extent ve need,” Pavel said, turning toward the box. “Vat are ve going to do vis zis thing? It looks alive…”

“I know. Maybe we can put it in quarantine in medbay?” you mused as you looked through your options. “Do you know your way to sickbay through the Jefferies system?”

“I could probably figure it out, vhy?”

“Get over there. There’s a decon station there that we can use. Doctor McCoy might even be awake by the time you arrive.”

“Vhat about you?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“But when I come out of ze tube -”

“I’ve got more than one enviro suit, Pash.”

---

Pavel stepped out of the decon unit and stretched.

McCoy stood with you outside the door waiting for him.

“You’re alright?” he asked.

“Right as rain,” you said with a sideways glance at the doctor.

“So vhat’s going to happen to zat sing?” Pavel asked the doctor.

“I’ll just keep in quarantine for the time being. Run some tests.”

“I imagine we’ll have a great time figuring out how it got in there,” you added.

McCoy hummed his agreement.

“You’re free to go, Chekov,” he said, turning on his heel and leaving. He had over nine hundred people to triage following this incident.

“So, nosing happened to me after all,” Pavel announced triumphantly.

“You say that like you expected something to happen.” You punched his arm. “You know I’d never let something bad happen to you.”

“I know,” he affirmed, circling his arm around your shoulders and walking with you out of the medbay.

#pavel x reader #chekov x reader #pavel chekov x reader #WhatIf-Birthday2K17

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hogwartsforwriters · 6 years

Text

It had been a blessed month in which I hadn’t gone out of the palace at all for good reason. It was Ramadan, and the whole household would be awake most of the night, enjoying long evenings filled with music, dancing, and plentiful of food and tea for the royal family. On occasion, a notable or a Paşa would be invited for the night and I thought I’d caught a glimpse of Mehmet Giray in one of those nights, but I wasn’t sure and I had no way of finding out for there was no one who could enlighten me without wondering why I cared. I had been chosen to accompany Fahriye Sultan for the next-to-last day of Ramadan and she had elected to take a walk in the garden in the afternoon, where a tent was already set up with the Imperial guards surrounding it. We could only perceive the left side of the setup, which restricted our vision to a dark green screen embroidered with gold and silver, and two guards.

It was the middle of December, meaning that everyone was heavily dressed in full sleeves, fur or wool capes and gloves. The grass was fully covered in snow, and not a sound was emitted aside from our boots crushing the snow and the distant murmurs of the Sultan and his male guests murmuring about what I figured was politics.

It’s fair to say that, when we finally reached the entrance of the tent and I saw who the Sultan’s guests were, I was genuinely shocked. There, hovering over a map laid out on a table, was Sultan Mehmet III with to his right, Mehmet Giray, and to his left, Şahin Giray. Upon noticing the arrival of Fahriye Sultan, the princes bowed briefly, though I could swear that I’d discerned a blush crossing Mehmet’s features. As I tried keeping a low profile, I found that Şahin kept trying to lock eyes with me, and when I finally obliged, he gave me a glance that I recognised from our training sessions. He was going to do something he thought was extremely clever, though most times it ended up being more reckless than successful.

Greetings were murmured, followed by polite small talk which usually bored me out of my wits, though in that moment I was trying to lock eyes with Şahin and try to dissuade him from whatever suicidal pattern he intended on drawing. His next unspoken message bid me to trust him, as he often did when trying to teach me weaponless self-defense. I then realised that I had been spending so much time with Şahin that I had gotten to know most of his personality as well as being able to read him like an open book. I unfortunately couldn’t say the same about my love interest, Dervish, who had been sent to Egypt to chaperone Humaşah Sultan who had just been married off to an Egyptian Pasha. With Dervish, I never knew where I stood, neither could I predict any of his actions; and this set me off, most of the time. With Şahin, it was different. From one look at him, I could discern his mood, emotions, and what his next move would be. I would later learn that I had acquired that skill from our sparring sessions, but in that moment it felt strange. And strange in an almost intimate way. So intimate, in fact, that the handmaiden to my left elbowed me slightly to remind me to keep my gaze averted from the Crimean prince.

“Fahriye, what brings you here on this ill-tempered day? Shouldn’t you be by the fire in your quarter or in mother’s?” His Majesty asked, making the fat of his enormous double chin wiggle with a chuckle. “I bored of the indoors. I thought to go for a ride on the steed that you so generously gifted me for my first wedding, and came to ask for permission.” Fahriye’s features radiated a warm smile I had never before seen on her widowed face. I wondered which of the brothers attracted her interest, until I heard Şahin’s voice interject. “Your Highness, I do believe that this day is perfect for a ride. This is, after all, the last Thursday of the blessed month. Anyone would want to go horseback riding.” I didn’t look up, at that moment, but I swore I could feel his gaze piercing through me. “Do you think I’m not looking, Şahin?” The Sultan’s voice suddenly took a menacing tone. “You’ve been eyeing my slave ever since the females appeared.” “I can keep no secrets from His Majesty,” Şahin chuckled. “Indeed, she is most interesting to me.” “In what aspect?” He asked, and I could feel his stare on me as well as the attention of everyone fixated on me for a while. “I wonder what she would look like as the centrepiece of an Eid entertainment.” Şahin declared, making my blood run cold. What exactly was he suggesting? “Indeed, she could do well. But she’s too dark for my taste.” The Sultan admitted before addressing me personally, making me quake with fear. “Come closer, Hatun.”

I shakily walked closer to the crowned heads, until I was only a few feet from the Sultan. I was downright quaking with fear from what might be the issue of the interaction, and I was determined to find a way of making Şahin pay for it… somehow. The Sultan walked over to me, closing the distance between us almost completely, as he unceremoniously lifted my chin with his forefinger, blowing his fasting breath on my face in cloudy mists. It took all my willpower not to cringe at the horrid smell as I let him inspect my face and body before he turned around to face Şahin again and grunt.

“She’s too dark. You can have her in your harem as a Eid gift, Giray, you deserve it.”

No one in the vicinity could tell if it was a compliment or the opposite that the Sultan had directed both at Şahin and at me. But one thing was sure, I would be Şahin’s property starting from Saturday night. I don’t exactly remember how I felt in that moment, to be frank, but what I do remember is that I kept praying for this to be one of Şahin’s plans to overthrow Mehmet III and not just the actual purchase of my person.

°•°•°•°

“… and then, Mahifiruze and Şehrazat are going to spread to reveal Alayssabat with the silk. At that moment, everyone else will still in this position, your fan covering your face and your other hand on your waist. Now, Alla, I’m going to need you to be seductive towards Şahin Giray—” Mihrimah, the dance teacher, instructed before I interrupted her. “What?” “His Majesty has offered you to the prince, Alayssabat, and there is but one outcome of this. Şahin wants to have an intercourse with you. You’re going to join his harem in the capital and accompany him if he chooses to go back to Crimea. And, in order to safeguard the reputation of the Ottoman harem, you need to at least satisfy him in bed. If he is displeased with you, I do fear for your fate and ours.” “Why would you fear for your fate?” I asked, aghast. “Simply because if you’re not good enough, none of us is. They’ll send us all to the Old Palace and replace us with new acquisitions. Our time would be over.” “Not to mention that, if it happens, we’d all be out to get our revenge on you, Alla, so you need to make that prince fall in love with you.” Mahifiruze warned me with a threat in her voice.

I shot her a condescending glance despite my slight panic at having the fate of the whole harem resting in my hands. The rest of that day was spent with the dressmaker, who took my measurements again for my performance outfit. I wasn’t given any information about what I would be wearing, and just sent off to rehearse some more. Only when I was confident that I had mastered the dance did i allow myself to have a meal.

That happened on Thursday night, and the dance would be on Saturday. Three people were working on my costume and most of the girls threw me uneasy glances all evening. I understood them, honestly, I wasn’t even sure that I was fit for the job myself. It was the very first time I was assigned to dance, since my primary function in the palace was _jariye_ and not a potential concubine. That, of course, had been Şuruk Hatun’s decision when, during my inspection after my first bath, she concluded that I was not a virgin. I hadn’t had time to die and be eligible for intercourse with a royal, and I wasn’t displeased. At least, until Şahin came up with his genius plan whose outcome I had yet to find out.

°•°•°•°

On Saturday morning, I took no part in the festivities. I barely even had the time to collect my Eid aspers before I was sent off for a last rehearsal before bathing. At around noon, I had a quick lunch with the girls and was again sent off for a last fitting of the costume I had yet to see.

“Get dressed, quickly, you’ve to dance in seven hours and this is twelve hours’ work.” The dressmaker, Halita Hatun, tossed a pearl white bundle at me as she sat herself on a wooden stool.

*Seven Hours Later*

Halita finally sat back on her stool with an exhausted sigh. “If you tear it or mistreat it, I might just faint. Please, be careful with it.” I nodded, still mesmerised by my reflection on the full length mirror. “Am I seriously expected to dance with this?” “You’re supposed to seduce the prince and look desirable, Hatun. And I’d say it has serious chances of working.” Mustafa Agha’s voice startled me as I turned to look at him. “Go get ready, the Giray brothers have just been announced.”

At receiving this bit of information, my heart started beating as fast as a caged bird’s wings. Mustafa escorted me to the beauty parlour, all the while silent and solemn. Did he fear being sent off to the Old Palace as well? I felt nothing but nerves as Mihrimah and Hatice Hatun fixed my hair and perfumed my body, respectively. My stomach tightened when Bulbul Agha came to announce that the princes were seated in the harem and waiting for the performance. All while fixing my hair, Mihrimah kept a flow of advice running through her lips, sometimes so subtle that it might have sounded like advice to herself. In any case, I was too nervous to pay attention to what she was saying. Approximately three minutes after Bulbul announced the princes, I was finally ready and given a full length mirror to inspect myself. When light finally hit my reflection, it felt like an anticlimactic moment. The person staring back blankly at me didn’t feel any different from usual. If anything, I didn’t like the way the costume hugged my body too tightly in the bust and how wide the skirt seemed, for such a light fabric. Although, in fact, the fabric from below my ribs to the golden, bejewelled belt was removable as part of the dance. The dress was made of a flowing kind of white silk, which moved as though through a light breeze at every one of my moves. I noticed two slits in the skirt, to allow me to move more freely and to show off my legs— or at least my calves. Hatice had given me an anklet which I was sure would be noticed, and the linked bracelet and ring of gold on my right hand wouldn’t go unnoticed as well. The dress was sleeveless, giving the impression of a twentieth century bra over a loose corset of silk. The pieces of silk covering my trunk were strategically fastened at the shoulder straps, in order for their extraction during the dance to happen as smoothly and sensually as possible.

°•°•°•°

As I was taken to the harem, escorted by the snappy pair of Mustafa and Bulbul Agha, I fought to keep my lunch where it ought to stay and to still my shaky legs. My hands felt sweaty, and I was starting to feel like I’d forgotten the steps to my dance. When we arrived at the front entrance, Bulbul penetrated the harem to ask the musicians to change the tune and the other girls to get ready for my dance, since they had been entertaining the princes while I was getting ready.

Standing next to me, and shielding me from the view of the people in the harem, Mustafa leaned towards me with his hands linked before him and murmured, “You’re going to be fine. And, God willing, your life will take its best turn tonight. You don’t need to be afraid, all you have to focus on is your dance. Forget that anyone is watching you, and everything will be all right.” He then glanced down at me for a second before adding, “Besides, you wouldn’t need a dance for Şahin Giray to want you.”

This made me emit a nervous chuckle, I didn’t say anything however and I was ever so thankful that I wouldn’t have to sing, for my voice had left me. My only wish was for no one to make me speak until my dance was over.

That was when it happened. The music shifted to a quiet violin chorus accompanied with ever so light taps on a lap drum and a few flying notes on a mandolin every ten seconds or so. My heart beat in sync with the drum as I smuggled myself in the midst of the dancers crowding at the entrance for my reveal. As we progressed through the harem and towards the guest of honour’s settlement, the violins grew stronger, the drum grew more erratic and faster, and the mandolin was giving steady strums. And when the music reached its peak, which coincided with all dancers being finally in place in front of the guests, all instruments stopped except for a single, high violin note as every dancer sank to the carpeted floor to reveal me, arms stretched as gracefully as I could when trying not to get sick, in the way that a bird would unfurl its wings.

The note, as well as my position, lasted for two excruciatingly slow seconds for effect, until the three other instruments picked up the music in a cheerful yet romantic melody, and I executed most of the steps with the girls backing me up as we were all parts of the choreography. I made a point of avoiding the guests’ area so as not to feel anxious about the brothers’ judgment on my dance.

And, naturally, when I focused most on avoiding them was when I accidentally made eye contact with Şahin and realised that he was literally the only one sitting behind a table of desserts while Valide Sultan Safiye was sat a little ways farther from him, stroking her white angora named Elizabeth. At that moment, my foot slipped on the carpet and I went a fraction of an inch from spraining my ankle. I caught myself in time so as not to get seriously hurt, but my mishap didn’t go unnoticed.

“Get a hold of yourself, for goodness’ sake!” Mahifiruze hissed at me when she was positioned behind me, the music drowning her voice from everyone but me and a few dancers.

I didn’t answer as I continued following the steps and felt my solo approaching dangerously. And when it did, all the girls started positioning themselves around me in a half circle, right hand on right hip and left hand holding up the fan to cover their face, one by one until I was the only one standing in the middle. The music then changed, with only the lap drum drawing intricate auditive patterns and making my heart follow each tap on the animal skin of the instrument. Slowly and inconspicuously, I placed my hands on my shoulders and got a hold of the silk. That moment was when I had to lock eyes with Şahin and start on the seduction. The drummer was installed on the upper floor and was watching my every move, for we depended on each other’s performance. I looked up at her briefly and then back at Şahin and in one swift move, I removed the sheets and at the same time the drum grew suddenly more intense as the rest of the instruments played for five more seconds before muting completely. My solo would only be supported by the sound of the lap drum.

It was obvious that I felt pretty satisfied with myself when I saw the genuine look of surprise cross Şahin’s features for half a second before he caught himself and got back to his cold demeanour.

As the steps suggested, after a minute of belly dancing to the sole sound of the drum, the violins picked up a background pattern as I approached Şahin and, after the girls who had been surrounding the prince had removed the table, kneeled less than a foot from him and slipped my perfume-scented silk accessory around the back of his neck, like a scarf. Holding both ends of the silk, I pulled his face close to mine and smirked before standing back up, leaving the silk hanging around his neck, and giving the last half minute of my dance with a sole silk veil. My last position, the one in which the music would stop, was after a twirl meant to spread about my skirt before I knelt down in front of Şahin, my rear seated on the soles of my feet and my bent knees visible from the slits of the skirt.

I drew heavy breaths as I closed my eyes and caught my breath in front of Şahin, grateful that he was the only one who could see I had my eyes closed. When I opened them again, something on the carpet between Şahin and me caught my eye. A single, small, purple handkerchief with golden hems was tossed between us. At that moment, I gave him a look of sheer horror. Was he serious? And he had the nerve to smirk and give a slow clap. I wanted to duel him right then and there, and nothing else. I wanted to communicate my displeasure with him, but the only way that I could do that at the moment was by glaring at him until my breath stilled. I picked up the handkerchief with obvious contempt in my expression and fixed my features before turning around and giving Safiye Sultan a courtesy and a small smile, to which she returned a nod and what I discerned as pride. That was extremely odd, having _Safiye Sultan_ proud of you. It was practically impossible, really. However, in that situation, it was understandable. The Crimean crown, though a property of the Ottoman throne, was still a significantly notable part of the kingdom. And by seducing the Crimean prince into wanting to bed me (which was what the purple handkerchief symbolised), I had upheld the reputation of the Ottoman harem and thus of its keeper: Safiye Sultan. Now, all I had left to do was avoid disappointing the prince _in bed…_ _This is going to be difficult._

°•°•°•°

I was immediately taken to the baths, in order to clean up any sheen of sweat my skin might have shown. I avoided wetting my hair as I rubbed soap on my skin as quickly as I could and rinsed off. I went the the beauty parlour again to slip on an amber dress whose fabric felt heavy yet soft against my skin. The buttons were in the back, so I had a girl help me wear it while I applied perfume on either side of my neck, right below my ears, and in my cleavage after some insistence on Mihrimah’s side. The dress had summer sleeves, linked only in the crooks of the elbows with small bejewelled clasps; and the lacy amber skirt had a slit in the middle which revealed a milky white underskirt. My hair was brushed again and curled in soft, undulating strands here and there, and a golden headdress kept together the strands which would have otherwise hung on either side of my face.

Thus was I dressed when I was escorted to the bedroom which had been prepared for Şahin Giray. When I was admitted inside, the candles had been lit and the doors to the balcony were open. Seeing that I had been thrust into the bedroom alone, I figured that I could go out and have some fresh, yet icy cold, air. My white-and-gold fabric shoes hit softly against the marble of the balcony as I felt a chill run through my body. Goose bumps appeared on my arms and my chest as I “bravely” made my way to the end of the balcony. Istanbul, under a thick layer of snow, looked like the most enchanting city since Olympus. The first few miles of the Mediterranean sea were frozen, keeping all boats away from the harbour. The sky was clear, that night, and the crescent moon shined nearly as brightly as a full moon would, illuminating the frozen shores and the snow-covered rooftops. No night was as bright as that night, and I felt that no night in the future would ever be. I drew in a deep breath, which burned my lungs, but I didn’t care. It felt nice. I felt _alive_.

“That was quite a show you put on, back there.” Şahin’s drawl made me jump. I turned around, releasing a breathy giggle which appeared in cloudy mists. He was leaning against the balcony doorway, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded over his chest.“I didn’t hear you come in.” He raised his eyebrows and indicated the main doors of the bedroom. “I knocked.” I scoffed. It was just the two of us now, so I could act naturally in this situation. “I hardly believe that.” He scowled at me, although a small smirk was playing at the corners of his lips. It was as though he’d realised that even in a fancy dress or dancing the way that I did, I was still the same impertinent sparring partner that he was used to. I walked past him and sat, cross-legged on the bed, holding my joined ankles together with my right hand and disillusioning him completely from the femininity that I was supposed to be communicating. “So, what’s the plan?” He frowned minutely, not having moved an inch except to follow my moves with his curious gaze. “What plan?” Şahin asked, faking innocence. My heart skipped a beat. “Wasn’t this some sort of scheme? Suggesting Eid entertainment and throwing the purple handkerchief, and all that?” He turned in a swift move towards the room and bent over the small Persian table to take an almond and tossing it in his mouth, chewing it in loud cracks. “There is no plan. I just had that idea when I saw you as an obedient little servant, so very different from your usual… _tenacious_ self.” He grinned as he sipped on the tea I hadn’t noticed had been set before I got in. I tried to hide my shudder. “Şahin, you don’t expect me to… I mean, you don’t expect us to have an intercourse, right?” He smirked, making my stomach twist uncomfortably. “Why not? It’s still better than Mehmet.” Something told me that he didn’t think of his brother when he said that. My jaw went slack at his statement. “Şahin, I…” Words disappeared in my throat as, for the very first time, I didn’t feel safe in Şahin’s presence. He gave me an indulging look. “Yes?” “You know that I’m in lov—” “Ahhh yes, Dervish. Yes, I remember. And I also remember that he cannot even afford to marry a free, Muslim woman. So, a slave like yourself?” He scoffed exaggeratedly. “Forget it. You two are better off as star-crossed lovers who will only ever be able to steal kisses from one another.”

At that, my vision clouded as I leapt off of the bed and lunged at him, my fist ready to collide with his cheek. He somehow expected my move, especially since it took me three strides to reach him, and easily avoided my fist, using its strength to make me twirl around landing my back hard against his massive chest, holding my forearm against my stomach in an iron grip.

He then laughed heartily, brushing his bearded cheek against my ear as he asked, still laughing and probably tearing up a bit. “Did you honestly think that you could land a blow? I taught you everything you know, you weigh nothing against me in hand to hand combat, you innocent flower.” I tried to free myself from his grasp, but his grip was too strong. “Let go, Şahin.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “Where are your manners, Alayssabat Hatun?” “Wherever you threw yours, Şehzade Şahin.” I bit back as venomously as I could. He chuckled again, softly. “Don’t worry, Alayssabat. I’ll be gentle, I promise you.” And with that, he buried his lips in the crook of my neck and planted a kiss which sent shivers down my spine. I chose that moment of weakness to extract myself from him and face him. I glared at him like I never had before.

I spoke one word, mustering all the coldness and steadiness that I could in my voice, unconsciously pointing my finger at him. “Don’t.” His face fell, suddenly. “Is this all because of Dervish? Do you seriously think—” “This isn’t because of anyone!” I exclaimed, my voice unwillingly loud. I quieted down. “This isn’t about anyone but me. Please don’t touch me or I swear to God that I will kill you.” He gave me a long, searching look, before sighing in what I recognised as defeat. “Fine… Fine, but would you mind sharing the bed?”

I was clearly taken aback by his reaction. I had expected him to ask for explanations. I considered what sharing the bed with him might entail, and I thought that if he understood now, he’d understand later that I wasn’t giving in. I was ready to die to get out of that situation. We went to bed after he removed his marine blue vest and boots and I kicked off my shoes. I lied down on the left of the bed, against the wall, and he kept an uncharacteristically respectful foot of space between us as he lied down on his back. For the first few minutes, we stayed awkwardly silent, staring at the canopy’s ceiling.

He cleared his throat and I heard him turn towards me. I feared the worst. “Do you snore?” I blinked several times and frowned, but kept my eyes on the ceiling. “Not that I know of, no. Do you?” He exhaled sharply in an attempt at a scoff or a chuckle, I couldn’t tell. “Do you think that I’d know? Anyone who might have slept with me would be too frightened to say the truth.” I turned to face the wall as I murmured, “Well, I guess you’ll find out tomorrow.” “Good night to you too, Alayssabat.”

°•°•°•°

_I was still frozen and wet, but I had managed to snatch a shirt which had been discarded by the men that found me. I was running as far away as I could from them, icy wind burning my lungs which had started making a worrying noise. I couldn’t feel my feet anymore, but I was pretty sure that I had stepped on a twig at some point and that I was bleeding. I didn’t care at that moment, I only needed to get away from my assailants. How I wished I still had my bow and arrows…_ _Finally, after what felt like an eternity of running through the frozen German forest, I caught sight of an abandoned shack. I didn’t miss a beat as I turned towards its location. I found the door hanging off its hinges, so I tried to keep it as upright as I could and to find any piece of furniture which could block it. When I did so, I also found a piece of rotten wood which would serve as my meager means of defence. As I backed into the corner of the shack which was opposite the entrance, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my body and I screeched, trying my best to land a blow but failing. I knew what would happen next, oh I did…_

The next thing I knew, I was in bed with a rather annoyed Şahin trying to wake me up. I bolted upright and leapt off the bed in one move I wouldn’t have succeeded in, normally. I subconsciously hugged myself as I backed away from him towards the fireplace. I regarded him with utmost fear, despite knowing that he somehow wouldn’t hurt me. But he was a _man_, and men were… men were evil in the flesh.

With no control over my body whatsoever, I sank with my back against the wall, hugging my knees and sobbing uncontrollably. I hid my face and kept on crying until I felt the feeling quiet down within me. When I finally looked up, the look on Şahin’s face was not of annoyance, as I expected; nor was it of worry, as I’d dared to hope. No, the look on his face was utter shock, as though I had just done something he’d never had expected from me.

I wiped my tears, sniffling as I tried to conjure up my voice. “I— I’m sorry I woke you up.” To answer that, he marched slowly towards me and knelt down in front of me, leaving enough distance for me not to recoil. “What just happened?” He asked with a softness I didn’t know he had in him. “I was having a nightmare, I think that’s pretty clear.” I retorted, voice still low and tearful. “That was more than a nightmare, it felt like a hallucination or…” he trailed off, locking eyes with me with a pity I hated to discern in his features. I needed him to tell me to tough it up, that only children would be as weak, I wanted him to awaken the warrior in me. But instead, he regarded me as though he were my saviour and I despised that feeling. Lacking his motivation, I conjured up my own as I explained, “It was a memory, all right? Now let’s go back to sleep.” “Have you confessed it to anyone?” He asked, still using that infuriatingly soft tone. “Şuruk Hatun,” I managed through gritted teeth. “And that’s only because she asked why I was not… why I was already used.” “Did she help?” At that, I snapped. “Would you please stop pitying me so much, it’s frustrating! Tell me that I’m exaggerating, that I’m acting like a child, that I can tough it up! Anything but this, please!” I little short of yelled at the prince. “I don’t need to tell you to tough it up because you already are toughing it up. And sorry for being worried about you, Hatun, but after a year of being your tutor I came to care about you, to my great despair!” Şahin snapped right back at me. “This is hard for me too, I’m not used to feeling that way for anyone but Mehmet.” At that, I finally took a look at his fire lit face. The flames danced in his warm brown irises and, without giving it much thought, I leaned in and placed a shaky kiss on his lips. When I withdrew, he still had the same pleading look. He came to sit to my left, placing his arm around my shoulders and drawing me close to him. He was surprisingly warm and soft, two qualities I would never have expected from Şahin Giray. I looked back up at him and he brushed my last tear off of my cheek with his thumb. I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Would you like to go back to bed?” He asked in a murmur that vibrated through his chest.

I nodded soundlessly and we resumed our position on the grey sheeted canopy bed, with the exception that I voluntarily snuggled against him. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. After ten minutes of deep breathing, I felt him tentatively run his fingers through my hair. I rearranged my position against him as a wordless authorisation to proceed with his ministrations. He obliged, and quite clumsily so, for I figured that he wasn’t used to this kind of relationship.

I lifted my head from his chest after some time and locked eyes with him in the dim lighting. After having given the matter some thought, I kissed him passionately and straddled him. He responded, tentatively at first, until he took the control of the situation for the rest of the night. I woke up that day to the feeling of Şahin’s arm tightening around my body as he slept. I tried to go back to sleep but I didn’t need it anymore, so I carefully extracted myself from his hold and got off the bed. I dressed back up, fastening what I could of the buttons, before slipping on Şahin’s vest and taking the cushions to form a comfortable seat in the balcony. I didn’t know how much time I had spent looking at the grey sky, knees bent against my body and arms folded over my legs in order to keep what little warmth I had within my body.

This was when I heard the doors to the balcony open to reveal Şahin in full attire except for the vest I had borrowed. He sat wordlessly next to me and I drew myself close to him, discreetly breathing in his familiar scent.

“Good morning.” I muttered after a few minutes, my voice coming out hoarse. “Good morning.” His response felt somewhat cold, and I wondered what I had done wrong. I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked up at him. “Are you all right?” He barely spared me a glance as he replied, “Are you?” I rearranged my position so as to face him and folded my arms over my chest. “All right, speak up. What’s wrong?” He regarded me with a coldness he meant as intimidating, but I knew him all too well to be fooled. He wavered and, in a frustrated sigh, he hissed, “You have absolutely no respect for me.” I kept myself from scoffing at the last second and merely blinked at him. “How could you say, or even think that?” “Are you serious? From the day we met, you spoke to me with nothing but disdain, only using my rightful title sarcastically.” I placed my hand on his folded arms and locked eyes with him. “Şahin, I have as much respect for you as you have for me. It’s the way I behave with everyone that I know, unless they’re people who have power to take away food or shelter. I am not high born as you are, I have to stomp down on my pride on a daily basis to afford food, shelter, and clothing; but I digress. I do respect you, I merely got used to treating you as my equal.” I knew that I hit a sensitive note when I said that I treated him as my equal; after all, I was still a slave and he was still a prince, but I felt like lying to him would be contradictory with my claims. “Your equal?” Şahin asked, raising an eyebrow. A small smile crept across my features as I nudged his chest through his shirt and murmured, “Do you expect anyone else to be as honest with you as I am? Perhaps your brother, but I somehow doubt he would tell you the truths that you don’t like to hear.” I was proud of my argument as I saw how he fought to admit it. “The truths that I don’t want to hear? Such as..?” He asked challengingly, unconsciously puffing up his chest. I suddenly wore an uneasy expression, in order to throw him off, and muttered, “Well, about your snoring for instance.” I paused for effect and locked eyes with him, and I was proud to notice his brow creasing minutely before I gave a toothy grin. “You don’t snore, not at all.” His face broke into a chuckle and he pushed me lightly away. “You silly creature…” I leaned forward and murmured, “You like your silly creature…” before planting a soft kiss on his lips, to which he responded by cupping my face and snaking his arm around my body, pulling me closer to him. I broke the kiss to take a long look at him and run my thumb across his bearded cheek. He looked at me searchingly. “Why have you changed your mind?”

I then realised that I had completely forgotten about Dervish, who would be coming home to the palace in a few days and would find out that I had taken the opportunity to bed Şahin Giray and become his concubine. Oh, I knew perfectly what he’d think. He would think that I accepted to be Şahin’s concubine in order to rule over Crimea and perhaps bear heirs to the throne, and live as a queen. That was exactly what he would have thought, and seeing my current situation, he might have been right. That was the fact which was unnerving, that he might have been right. Although, to be frank, I wasn’t exactly sure what had changed my mind. Perhaps was it the fact that I felt safe with Şahin after the nightmare, despite having been the trigger to it.

I drew in a deep breath and pressed my lips together, shaking my head ever so slightly. “I’m not sure… it just felt right.” “Does it still feel right?” I nodded wordlessly, letting a small smile form on my face. He ran his fingers through my hair and tucked a strand behind my right ear. “I’m starving, we should get ready for breakfast.” He announced, though we hadn’t moved an inch from our position. “I’m mostly displeased with the cold, let’s go in.” I suggested, standing up from his lap, where our kisses had landed me, and extending my hand to help him up. He stood up, tucking his shirt into his pants as I entered the bedroom, already loosening up the buttons on his vest. “Will you be keeping that, Alayssabat Sultan?” Şahin asked sarcastically as I opened the vest and held it widely for him to slip into. “I am not pregnant, Şehzade.” I retorted, looking for where I had flung my shoes as I fastened his vest. “You might be, and if that’s the case, your title will change.” He said, as a matter of fact. I ignored his statement by moving my hair from my back and asking, “Is the dress well fastened?” “Do I look like a _jariye_ to you?” Şahin asked, faking outrage. I leaned my back against his chest and looked up at him, grinning widely. “You had no problem removing this dress last night, what changed?”

I felt a frustrated growl rumble within his chest and through to my back as he made me stand upright again and fastened the dozen or so buttons which I had linked to the wrong slits. When he was finished, he snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest again, stealing a kiss.

“Thank you, Şahin.” I murmured, facing him. “I will get ready for breakfast.”

°•°•°•°

A bath and a change of dress later, I made my way back to the bedroom which had been magically cleaned and where a copious breakfast was served. I checked the balcony for Şahin, but he once again would be coming after me. I debated whether I ought to start eating, but I decided against it as I stayed in the balcony which I had started taking a liking to.

My mind had gone far in the future when I heard the doorman announce a royal. “His Majesty—!” He was interrupted by the doors flinging open and both Giray brothers penetrating the bedroom, closely followed by Mustafa Agha. Upon seeing the third party, I gave a courtesy to the princes.

“Oh, you’re here already. I came to announce that you would be moving to the Giray house by the end of today, your belongings are on their way there as we speak.” Mustafa announced with a hint of pride. I gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for everything, Mustafa Agha.”

He returned the smile with a secrecy I was most confused at discerning. Was I missing out on something?

Şahin raised a hand. “You are dismissed, Agha.” Mustafa bowed. “Şehzade.” And he left. I let a few seconds stretch before remarking, “You could have been nicer, Şahin.” I then directed a friendly beam at Mehmet. “It’s lovely to see you, Mehmet.” He grinned back. “Likewise, Alayssabat. I see you’ve been enjoying yourself.” Mehmet concluded, his gaze shifting between his brother and me. I hated to feel my cheeks burn as I immediately justified myself, “It wasn’t exactly meant to happen.” “It was to me,” Şahin shrugged as he went back inside the bedroom, settled down, and started eating. I rolled my eyes at his statement and followed him inside. “Pour me a tea, will you?” I demanded in mock haughtiness. He raised what he thought was a threatening eyebrow, which made me giggle as I sat on the cushion next to his. “Your impertinence is really getting old, Alayssabat.” I reached up and kissed his cheek. “You know I was being funny.” I murmured as I poured three glasses of tea while Mehmet sat across from us. “You two look like a couple, and I have to admit that it’s frightening.” Mehmet shuddered exaggeratedly as he accepted his glass. “Aside from the physical closeness, I’m the same as ever with Şahin. With you as well, in fact.” I stated as I placed Şahin’s glass in front of him. “And pray do tell, what is that supposed to mean?” Şahin asked me, accepting his tea. “Certainly not what you have in mind, Şehzade.” I replied, taking a hold of my tea and warming my fingers through the glass.

He was going to retort when a knock came on the door. Before Şahin could object, Mehmet admitted whoever was behind the door and it turned out to be Reyhan Agha.

As soon as the doors closed, I muttered, “Reyhan Agha? But… aren’t you supposed to be in Egypt?” He raised an eyebrow. “So it _is_ true, then.” “Is _what_ true, Reyhan?” Mehmet asked with a hint of annoyance.

Reyhan glared at me for a second before changing the subject, much to Şahin’s frustration as he grunted in response to Reyhan’s greeting. Now, in a normal situation, I would have tried to soothe Şahin and his anger issues, but in that case, it was I who needed the soothing. What exactly was Reyhan’s issue with me?

“Why weren’t you announced?” Şahin asked through gritted teeth, in a scarily calm tone. “I thought that your visit to the palace meant a mission was in progress.” He gave a fleeting glance in my direction, though not fleeting enough for Şahin to miss the implication. “I was mistaken, and I apologise.” I exchanged a look with Mehmet who appeared to be suppressing a snicker. My gaze then became questioning as he wet his bottom lip and nibbled on a baklava. As I turned again towards Şahin, barely a second after Reyhan had apologised, I noticed the elder Giray tracing the lines of a dark red Lokum cube with his thumb. He looked pensive.

“To whom?” Were his only words. “Excuse me, Şehzade?” “To whom do you apologise?” Şahin then looked up from the candy and shot an icy glare right into Reyhan’s unsuspecting eyes. “Uh— well, to y—” He started, only to be interrupted by Şahin standing up to face the eunuch properly. “Because there was nearly no insult towards me or Mehmet. Your coming here is a demonstration of loyal services and assiduity.” He then extended his arm towards me and continued, “But what about the implication toward her?” “I… am not sure I understand, Şehzade.” His voice betrayed panic I hated to sympathise with. “You insulted her while she is in her own right, Reyhan Agha. She’s no longer a member of your harem, she is _my_ concubine and no one else’s. Understood?” Reyhan bowed to him and then repeated the courtesy to me, which I found most embarrassing. “My deepest apologies if I offended you, Alayssabat Hatun.” “Sultan.” Şahin corrected, making me mentally face palm. “Alayssabat Sultan.”

Reyhan quickly escaped the situation by knocking for the doormen to let him out. I sighed audibly as Şahin came to sit back down next to me.

He gave me a look I understood. “What?” I was not going to argue his actions, not so easily. I picked up my tea and took a sip. “Nothing.” It was his turn to sigh. “Speak.” “You did not have to defend me.” I stated, using my tea as a distraction from the incoming argument. “If I hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have been satisfied, either. What was I to do?” His frustration was clearly audible in his tone of voice. “I never asked anyone to help me in such a situation.” I replied coldly, the sweetened tea feeling suddenly sour in my mouth. “Oh is that so? Because I distinctly recall you yelling for help in your sleep last night—” Şahin interrupted himself mid-sentence, perhaps realising that he had gone too far. Mehmet made to stand up. “I’ll leave you two—” “No!” I nearly bellowed, standing up myself and smoothing the skirt of my dress. “I’m leaving, you stay here and enjoy your breakfast.” Şahin had found his voice again as he cleared his throat and began, “Alayssabat, I—” “Don’t. I’ll see you in the evening.” “You… will?” He seemed taken off guard by my statement.

I turned around and faced him. He had such an unfamiliar expression of guilt and confusion that he felt like a completely different person. He was, in a way, and I would never know him in the way that I had before.

“Do I have a choice?” I hated how low my voice had got during my emotional silence.

Not expecting a reply, I flung the doors open and made my way to the harem I knew I would miss. I was found by my backup dancers of yesterday who either congratulated me or deemed me lucky. I would have preferred to be in their place, merely a witness to one’s privilege. I would have liked for them not to see me as the centrepiece of that day. It took Mihrimah, my best friend in the palace, shooing them off to calm me down. I wasn’t a very enthusiastic person at the best of times, but that moment was just the worst for me to be the centre of attention.

°•°•°•°

After the sundown prayer, I was given a rather fancy coat to wear over my dress; the kind only given to the most appreciated concubines of the harem. It was shaped like a heavy, long sleeved dress with buttons on the left of the bust rather than down the middle. It was made out of warm, marine blue material which felt like cashmere but looked like velvet; and it had light grey embroidery on the forearms of the sleeves and framing the neckline and buttons.

The coat felt like the confirmation of my new status in the society I had learned to be a part of, and it somehow made me tear up. I was building something I knew I would have to abandon at some point in the future, and the worst part was that I was starting to get attached to its elements. I was in deep trouble, to say the least.

Waiting for me in the entrance hall were the princes, all four of them. Mehmet and Şahin, but also Mahmud and Ahmed, the Sultan’s sons, and their mothers: Halime and Handan, respectively. And at the end of the row was someone I had not expected would bid me goodbye: Safiye Sultan herself.

I advanced shakily toward the assembly line and bowed before Handan Sultan, Halime Sultan, Şehzade Mahmud, and when I arrived in front of Şehzade Ahmed and was about to bow, he did the most unexpected thing. Little Ahmed quite literally jumped and gave me the tightest hug a child of his size could give. I had never known that he liked me as much as he showed at that instant. It is fair to say that I was startled, and so were all of the others in line. I knelt in order to keep my balance and hugged him back as tightly as I could, only waiting for him to let go. When he did, I arranged his tiny, dark green, satin turban when he pulled back and gave him my warmest smile. That small person had brightened up my whole day.

“Will you visit me?” Ahmed asked, worry tainting his innocent voice. “I’ll try my best, Şehzade. If they allow me, of course.” He spread his little arms about him. “Well I allow you! I’m a Prince and I allow you to visit me.” I gave a brief glance at Safiye Sultan, who nodded minutely, before widening my smile at the young one. “I will, then. I can’t wait to see you again, Şehzade.” “Yay!” Ahmed cheered as he threw his arms around me again. Then came Safiye’s turn to bid me goodbye. I gave a considerable courtesy, and I only stood straight again when she signalled it to me with a wave of her hand.

We locked eyes for almost a minute before she spoke. “Never forget where you came from, Alayssabat Hatun.”

Though it was meant to remind me that Safiye Sultan had been the one to enable me to become the concubine of a prince, the effect ran much deeper through my memories. Flashes of my childhood, and mostly of my time as a lady’s maid, invaded my thoughts like a battalion of feelings. I was thankfully able to mask my emotions as I gave her a final bow and a small, grateful smile.

*•*•*•*

I would spend the whole ride, which was about an hour, looking thoughtfully through one of the holes in the wood carving which constituted the closest thing to a window. Şahin was about to speak about four times, but decided against it at the last second; which I was grateful for. Thinking about Aline made me in no mood to speak to anyone, much less him. Mehmet was riding on his mare, leading the coach to the Giray house.

I wordlessly exited the coach with help from Mehmet, who frowned minutely at seeing me looking upset.

“Is something the matter?” He asked in a hushed whisper before signalling towards Şahin in a nod. I shook my head and tried to grin. “No, I figure I’m only tired. Not to mention that I said goodbye to the girls in the harem today.” He gave a long nod as Şahin stood by my side and offered me his arm, which I accepted. “It’s not really as though you’re never seeing them again. You’ll accompany Şahin on official visits, like yesterday was.” I nodded back to him, not bothering to try for a smile anymore. “All right.” I then turned to Şahin. “May I please be excused?” We had just penetrated the nightly familiar entrance, and I was more than ready to be left alone. Şahin seemed taken aback by my request, but still he indicated the staircase to me. “Certainly. Hayriye Hatun will show you to your chamber.”

Hayriye had just come out of what I would learn to be the kitchen when Şahin mentioned her, which was a smooth transition as I immediately followed her upstairs. She showed me to a room in front of the one she used to dress me in, which I was thankful for. The dressing room was full of memories and I didn’t want it tainted by my current mood.

When she opened the double doors, I was met with a decent-sized, nicely decorated room. There was, however, an issue. The room contained no windows. I had gotten used to constantly be able to view the sky, and this made the room feel stifling. The coat which once made me feel regal was strangling me. I asked Hayriye where I could place it, and she immediately started unbuttoning it.

I held her hands in mine. “I can manage.” She smiled indulgently. “I know you can, Alayssabat Sultan, but this is my purpose. Especially now that you’re here as his Majesty’s concubine.”

I tried to argue but my vocal chords wouldn’t cooperate with my mind, and so I just let her dress me into a lighter indoor gown. Its colour reminded me of coffee and its ornamental embroidery was like the foam of a freshly brewed coffee cup.

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