Work Text:
The calendar showed January 12th, 1608. Middle of the winter. 23:38.
The view from the Topkapı palace was mesmerizing to look at, especially if you were someone that could call it your home. The weather was snowy, thick yet soft snowflakes had filled the air along with the ground. It was snowing heavily. It was no surprise though, winter in Istanbul was always like this.
There was a little boy, who everyone knew, with red hair sitting in front of the window. Watching the snowflakes filling the palace’s garden with that fascinated look on his face. His clothes were thick enough to keep him warm, his long and colorful kaftan reached his knees, and his börk on his head kept his head warm.
He places his tiny hand on the cold glass, feeling how cold it was outside. After watching the snowflakes fall on the grass all over and over again, he jumped off the windowsill and made his way through the dimly lit corridors towards the palace guards. He walked through the long halls filled with orange light, which looked the best at night time.
At the end of the long corridor, there stood an Ottoman guard dressed in traditional guard clothing. He caught sight of the little boy, the son of the Sultan, approaching him.
“What is it, my prince?” The guard asked, his tone dripping respect.
“I want to go outside.” Türkiye replied, with that innocent expression of his. He was at the very ripe age of 11, the heir to the throne.
—
The Sultan, The Ottoman Empire had gone out of the palace for a meeting with another neighboring country, and his return was expected tonight. Which was something Türkiye had completely forgotten about.
The little boy had put on his long scarf, too big and too long for his small body. He has run in the garden first, then made snow angels. It was a pity that there were no other boys his age in the palace, or at least he thought so.
He was not really allowed to play with other kids, even if he could, it was mandatory for the other kids to call him “Sehzade Levent Sultan,” Levent, his human name or something like that, which made him uncomfortable. Why couldn’t the other kids just call him by his actual name? He could understand that the human names were necessary, the countries were weird like that, pretending to be humans or whatever. But why couldn’t he just be called “Levent?” Just because he was the crown prince, he had to be called that, that out of everything possible on the god damn face of the entire earth.
He decided to make his own snowman, he had seen kids make it once. He rolled the snow into big, round shapes. The first one being large, the second smaller, and the last one the smallest. He put them on top of eachother.
“Hmm,” he said, eyeing down the snowman suspiciously. “something’s missing.”
He drew a face using his fingers, added buttons on the chest with his fingers again and drew the flag of the Ottoman Empire on the cheek of the snowman. He put on little tree branches to the side. After looking at the snowman up and down once again, he took off his scarf and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck. Perfect, he thought, proud of his work.
He hadn’t noticed the sound of the horses and the carriage.
After the guard had gotten inside the palace, someone entered the garden with heavy footsteps, each footstep dragging him closer to the smaller boy.
“Türkiye,” the voice of the Ottoman Empire rang across the garden that only 2 of them stood. He unwrapped the scarf off the snowman and shook the snow off the scarf before wrapping it around Türkiye’s neck. “you should not be taking off your accessories, especially in this weather. You’ll catch a cold.”
“My Sultan, father, you’re back!” Türkiye exclaimed excitedly. He turned around to hug his father, the Ottoman hugged him back with one arm around his son’s small frame. His other hand went up to ruffle his son’s hair beneath the börk.
“Seriously though, be more careful.” The Ottoman warned for the last time before taking a glance at the snowman as Türkiye let go of him. His gaze softened as he realized the flag on the snowman’s face, a sincere smile replaced the stern look.
“Is this supposed to be me?” Ottoman asked.
“Yeah,” Türkiye responded without wasting any time, he pointed at the flag on the snowman. “that’s why I drew the flag.”
“I can tell.” Ottoman said. There was a moment of silence between them, which did not last long since there was an eleven year old in the garden.
“I drew your face smiling because you always have that stoic look on your face, you definitely should smile more!” said Türkiye. The comment made Ottoman say “oh wow” to himself.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“I see. Nice work,” He said before turning around to leave, “I’ve got stuff to do in the palace. It’s getting late, you should get in too.”
“I want to stay for a bit, my sultan.” Türkiye said as he looked at his work of art. “Won’t you stay for a bit more, join in perhaps, father?” He said, his tone filled with excitement.
Ottoman turned a bit serious at the offer. “You know such thing is not possible, my prince, due to palace manners.”
“But you’re the sultan, nobody can judge you nor tell you what to do, so how come?” Türkiye asked in response.
Ottoman sighed irritatedly. He did not expect an eleven year old to really understand the occupation and the responsibility of being a sultan, neither how much reputation mattered. “As I said, this offer goes against the manners of a sultan. I invite you to stop being persistent on this nonsense, my prince.”
“But-“
Türkiye was locked in the Şimşirlik, the cage room, for the next 5 days.
Nor did he ever ask his father to join him when it snowed ever again.
Not even after gaining his independence and declaring the republic, because his father was no longer among the living.