"He's asking for you again," Egypt muttered softly, his eyes avoiding Hungary's, for he knew she'd be angry.
And she was. Hungary pursed her lips and narrowed her brilliantly green eyes in extreme irritation. "Again? I won't! I'll refuse it! He can beat me again for all I care, but I'm not answering his calls like some trained dog!" Without thinking, she threw the wooden carving of Turul she had been working on onto her bed, the impact causing it to bounce off onto the ground instead. Instantly, she felt guilty for treating such a revered animal of her people so disrespectfully. Hungary bent over to pick it up, caressing its incomplete wings.
Greece, who lay on his bed next to hers, cocked open an eye lazily, awakened by her outburst. Hungary shot him an apologetic look.
Egypt heaved a soft sigh. Turkey wasn't a patient figure, nor did he care much for nations in their teens that weren't obedient to his orders. Among all of the territories in the Ottoman Empire, Hungary was one of the most rebellious, simply because she was the kind who relished her freedom to do as she liked more than anything. There were times when Egypt admired this fiery and spirited trait in her, a characteristic which he didn't encounter in most women he'd met. That suddenly made him realise something that he hadn't thought to ask before.
"Hungary," Egypt began slowly with caution and concern laced in his voice, "Turkey doesn't…do things to you, does he?"
The brown-haired girl in front of him blinked. "What do you mean? What kind of things?"
Egypt's cheeks were tinted pink. Was she really this dense? He exhaled slowly, and turned to Greece pleadingly for help. After all, the other nation had more experience – and interest – in this subject than he was. Yet Greece was no help at all, as he simply gazed back at him with a small amused smile that spoke undeniably of I'd like to see you explain this.
"You know…like, does h–"
"If you mean dressing me up in silk and jewels and perfume and other ridiculous girly items, then yes, he does!" Hungary spat, flushing red as she did so. Greece made a grunt of amusement.
"It's not funny!" Hungary folded her arms and looked away in embarrassment. "I'm like his stupid little doll to amuse! him I swear, that fattyú has a fetish for boys in women's clothing! Urgh!"
Egypt froze, and even Greece sat up in response to her statement. They glanced at each other and neither said a word as Hungary continued spewing expletives about their conqueror.
"Hungary, you do know you're not a bo–"
The three of them turned towards the door of their small bedroom as it opened to reveal an apologetic-looking Ukraine. "Hungary, the господар is calling for you, and he is not happy about being kept waiting."
When she still didn't budge, Ukraine sighed sadly. "Please, my dear Hungary, don't make this difficult for me. I don't want to have him beat you. It breaks my heart to see you treated like that, even if you don't care. So, please, do this for me?" She held out a hand and bade the younger girl to follow her out. Hungary's eyes softened with guilt and sullenly, she took Ukraine's hand as she was led out of their bedroom.
Just as Egypt was recovering from the shock of Hungary's apparent gender confusion, he froze when he overheard Ukraine saying, "Don't worry, Hungary, it's not that bad this time. He's agreed to forgo the kohl."
Turkey was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased indeed.
Through the white mask he always wore, he eyed Hungary fidgeting uncomfortably in her fitted gömlek and chirka as the maids fussed over her, lifting her arms despite her squeaks of protest in order to put on the silk entari. Another servant rushed forward with gold bracelets and anklets, but it was the sight of the rouge that were for reddening the cheeks that really sent Hungary recoiling.
"Behave, my little Macaristan," Turkey reminded, "I'd hate for Ukrayna to have her pretty face bruised, don't you?" He tilted his head as he smiled cruelly at Ukraine, who was dutifully standing by and paled as she heard his passing remark. Hungary ceased trying to bite the maids and obediently stood still as they adorned her with rouge and other luxurious jewellery. She resorted to remain contented with sending smouldering glares of hatred at Turkey, who only returned her murderous looks with an amused chuckle.
He had decided to change his tactics this time, for he knew Hungary wasn't afraid to be beaten anymore; her damn pride saw to that. But he'd learnt quickly that she could not bear having others hurt on her behalf. Her apparent sense of compassion was used to his advantage. Threatening to flog Ukraine or any other nation that was close to her should've been something he adopted earlier; it would certainly had saved him the many ripped and ruined clothing he had ordered for her to wear. Silk imported from China wasn't cheap.
"Leave us," he commanded sharply, and the servants, with their heads respectfully bowed, quickly left the room in hushed tones. Ukraine gave Hungary a sympathetic look, for she knew how much Hungary detested "alone time" with Turkey. She mouthed an I'm sorry to her before quietly making her leave.
"Gerçekten güzel," Turkey smirked. Hungary looked like a perfect Ottoman princess now. It was such a terrible shame, in his opinion, that she didn't choose to wear feminine clothing like his other territories Lebanon and Armenia did. Ukraine really didn't count much as she wore extremely modest women's clothing, though it did little to hide her greatest assets.
"Buraya gel." Hungary didn't move from her spot, her eyes blazed with quiet defiance, as though daring him to get angry with her.
To her surprise, he chuckled at her disobedience. "If you will not come here, I will come to you." And with such swift movement that she didn't have time to react, he had gotten off his bed to back her towards the wall behind her.
"Sweet Macaristan, is it any wonder that you are one of my personal favourites?" he purred, tracing her jaw line with a gloved finger.
"Don't touch me, fattyú!" she snapped, swatting his hand from her face, her golden bangles jingled as she did so. Her eyes spoke of utter resentment, but Turkey didn't miss the mortified blush creeping in her cheeks from his touch. He laughed, and it simply infuriated her more.
"But you enjoy it, don't you, sevgili." Hungary's eyes widened as his tone turned serious, and he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her close, her face pressed against his chest.
"I know you melt when I hold you like this."
Hungary tensed at first, but her mind cursed when her muscles traitorously relaxed as he stroked her back.
"I know you have no resistance against my kisses."
He tilted her head up as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, and with a grin, he brushed his lips against hers. And he was right; she didn't make a sound of protest at all. Hungary had never thought that Turkey, who had mercilessly conquered her lands and wouldn't bat an eyelid when doling out harsh punishments for her rebelliousness, could be capable of such tenderness. All he had ever done before were forcing her into clothes she felt she shouldn't be in and having her endure his grabbing and rough kisses.
A gentle Turkey felt so alien to her. And yet…it felt so right as well.
When he broke the kiss, his tender look was replaced with that of utmost gloating. Hungary felt sick to her stomach, something mixed with guilt, shame and regret. Had she just allowed herself to be seduced by that damn Turk…!
"I haven't forgotten how you made me wait, you know," he remarked while tightening his hold on her, his voice having a renewed tone of malice laced in it. Hungary swallowed her saliva, her heart hammering against her ribcage. Was she really fearing Turkey now? She somehow sensed a dangerous aura emanating from him, and it was different from all the other times.
"As punishment, I'm having all your clothing replaced with those from the harem."
And that was when Hungary regained her senses and her fighting instincts kicked in, as she sank her knee to where it'd hurt that damn Turk most of all.
Glossary:
Turul – the most important mythological bird of the Magyars (Hungarian people)
fattyú – Hungarian for bastard [Thanks reviewers for correcting me!]
господар – Ukrainian for master
kohl – a cosmetic used predominantly by women in the Middle East and parts of Africa to darken the eyelids and as mascara for the eyelashes
gömlek – a white tunic with voluminous sleeves
chirka – a short, tight undercoat, worn over the gömlek, with the hem about mid-thigh length to above the knee
entari – an ankle-length "coat" that buttons down from the front
Macaristan – Turkish for Hungary
Ukrayna – Turkish for Ukraine
Gerçekten güzel – Very nice
Buraya gel – Come here
sevgili – dear/darling
The author speaks: FYI, Ukraine was part of the Ottoman Empire from 1676 to 1681. Been wanting to write a TurkHun fic for a while now, and here it is!
Please R&R (: