Axis Powers Hetalia: Purple Sleep
Glory of Rome is gone, his Empire in the west has fallen. And now the end of the Eastern Empire draws near. The City of Constantinople still stands against the enemy, but the crescent moon will soon shine over it. The year of our Lord 1453 will see the downfall of the Byzantine Empire.
A bitter wind blew through the great Imperial city, touching its many churches, palaces, houses and statues of emperors of old. Bitter it was, for it carried smoke, dust and ash with it from the fields of battle and from the Ottoman campfires outside the city walls. The wind was cold, but the demoralized populace did not feel its cold sting as much as they felt from where the wind was blowing. It came from the east, from the Ottoman Empire. It was bitter not because it was cold, not because the fumes it carried and not because its bite and sting; it was bitter because it was the herald of woes, the messenger of the Byzantine Empire's final hours.
The Imperial palace stood proud and strong, surrounded by its beautiful city. But its splendor was now a dim reminder of past, its glory and majesty nothing but faded memories of happier, grander times for the populace. The palace now stood in the twilight of the Empire, on the very edge of the night that was about to fall. Some might even raise their heads and not see the brilliant sun, for the dark gloom of this downfall of second Rome had pulled a veil of dark thoughts and shadows over the eyes of the city's inhabitants. It had filled them with depression and tired acceptance of doom. God no longer smiled upon them. The Lord had turned His face away and withdrawn His blessings for reasons and sins no one could say or remember. It was now time of heathens and non-believers, people whispered. The Cross would be thrown to the dust, the sacrifice of the Son would be forgotten and crescent moon would despoil the holy places of Christendom.
Byzantine Empire, a beautiful but sad woman, dressed in splendor befitting an older age, wearing purple and regalia of Imperial authority, was lying on a bed in her chamber decorated with memories of centuries. The stained glass windows, the jewels and the icons, all the gold and riches that could be found in this room were nothing to her now. With weariness and exhaustion in her eyes and in her soul she looked at all the items in her room and smiled not at them, but at the memories they brought to her. Was this not the ring given to her by her handsome Rome? Was this not the cross she had been given when the Empire turned to Christ and accepted His promise of salvation of soul? So much and still so little.
She could still remember older times, before the Savior had been born. She remembered the gods of old with their struggles and arguments. She remembered the mighty Zeus, she remembered the gloomy Hades, she remembered the wise Athene… She remembered the city of Sparta with its warrior-kings (isn't this sword from there? It carries the Spartan spirit within), she remembered Athens and its philosophers and conquerors (oh, these gilded scrolls of wisdom of Socrates, Platon and Aristotle…). She remembered Pericles and Caesar, she remembered Augustus and Leonidas, she remembered Constantin and the crafty Archimedes. Had it truly been so long?
Byzantium did not notice how the door of her chamber opened with just a slight creak and a little boy with a dreamy gaze, dark brown hair and cat trailing his steps came in. The boy looked at Byzantium, at first unsure if to approach or not, but then took step forward and now Byzantium heard him. But she was still surrounded by the sweet and loving ghosts of her past and she did not see clearly who it was.
"Is that you, my husband?" she asked as the myriad points of light surrounded her and as the past whispered to her. "Have you come to take me with you, my own Rome?"
"No, mother", the boy answered slowly. "I'm just little Greece."
Slowly Byzantium awoke from her half-slumber and smiled meekly and sadly at her son. "Oh, so I see. I must have dreamt in my waking hours again… What is the matter?" she then asked when she noticed that the boy was even more reserved and sullen than before.
"North Italy is here", Greece answered.
Byzantium simply nodded. "Then let North Italy in", she asked pleasantly.
The words had barely left her lips as Chibitalia already ran into the room and his eyes were filled with tears.
"Byzantine Empire!" he cried and grapped Byzantium's purple sheets and her hand. "Ottomans have broken in! Ottoman Empire will soon be here! You must wake up, you must go when you still have time! Grandpapa Rome would have wanted you to go!"
Greece looked at his mother and she could see that he also wanted his mother to go away, to leave the doomed city of Constantinople. But she only smiled with sadness in her eyes and in her words.
"My dear, brave little Italy", she murmured. "You have something of your grandfather's steel in you, tempered with kindness and softness of one whose heart is true. Come closer, Greece, for these words are for you as well."
Greece stepped forward and now both children stood next to Byzantium's bed and she smiled.
"You came from your own land, my little Italy, to protect me against the Muslims", she said. "So brave of you, so sweet of you. But your journey has been a fruitless one. I am old and tired. I remember the time when the name of God was not spoken in courts. I remember the time before the Cross, I am that old. For over two millennia I have walked our Lord's green earth and seen wonders and horrors. But now my strength has left me. I can hear my husband calling to me from beyond. I can't refuse that call any longer. My lands have withered away, my riches are now in memories and my strength has been gone for years. I was never as strong as my husband and now that which I had is spent."
"You can't say such things!" Chibitalia cried and Greece grapped his mother's hand, holding on to it tightly.
"I can and I must", Byzantium said and by chance of fate she heard silent footsteps approaching. "It is the truth of the matter. Oh, my son…" she then said to Greece. "I love you so much and I leave you nothing but ruins and memories. I am so sorry."
Greece sobbed and Chibitalia cried. The door creaked again and a tall man in white and red robes stepped in. His face was covered with a white mask and his large turban shadowed what little was left visible.
"Byzantium", Ottoman Empire said and bowed his head. "We meet again."
Byzantium nodded, but didn't answer. She simply caressed Greece's cheek as the Ottoman Empire stepped closer.
Then something strange occurred: Chibitalia was roused from his state of hopeless sorrow. He grapped his beloved broom and suddenly the Ottoman Empire took a step backwards, for the broom had nearly hit him. Surprised and annoyed the Ottoman Empire drew his sword to face Chibitalia, but to his great bemusement he found himself defending against this little child armed with a simple wooden broom, so great was Chibitalia's desperate fury.
"Enough", Byzantium said sternly. Then her voice became mellow and sweet. "Do not place yourself in danger needlessly, my brave Italy."
"But…" Chibitalia whimpered again as the Ottoman Empire eyed him suspiciously, but lowered his sword and sheathed it.
"No buts, my sweet Italy", Byzantium admonished him. "This fate cannot be avoided, not any more. I'm too tired to do so myself and I can't ask anyone else to do it for me." She caressed Greece's head and a tear fell out of her eye. "How I wish it would be otherwise… But you must be courageous, my son, strong and courageous. Your old mother won't be there to guide you. But God will be. In His mercy and grace I place you, for there are no safer place."
Greece cried and Chibitalia's broom fell out of his hands. The Ottoman Empire stood silent and then spoke with a soft, soothing voice.
"I must speak with Byzantium alone and you two must wait outside. Do not worry, little one, I am not angry. You did what strong and brave men didn't have the courage to do. May God smile upon your courage, little Italy, and may He bless you for it."
Then gently but firmly the Ottoman Empire pushed Italy and Greece out of the room and closed the door. He then returned to face Byzantium, lying on her bed, and knelt beside her.
"It has now come to this", he simply said. "After all those years. Do you have any regrets or sins to confess?"
Byzantium's face was darkened for a moment by anger. "Do not presume that I would confess anything to you, sin or regret, O heathen", she said. "God alone will hear them."
"Heathen? Harsh words." Silence fell until it was broken by the Ottoman Empire. "I offered you the chance to survive. To swore fealty to me would have been preferable, no?"
Byzantium shook her head. "My husband wouldn't want me to bow down to anyone. I will not insult my memory of him by doing something like that." She looked straight at the Ottoman Empire and he felt uneasy when her gaze locked his own. "Greece will grow up to be strong and independent. He is the heir of my ancient legacy. He will survive." Then she crossed her hands and closed her eyes. "Do what you came here to do, Ottoman." Then she began her last prayer.
The Ottoman Empire shook his head. "Lady in purple, do you think I am an animal? A barbarian? I will not slay a man or woman of faith, I will not lay my hand on someone who speaks to God the ever-merciful." He bowed his head and allowed Byzantium to say her prayer without interference. For it was a just action and he was a just man, he deemed. And as he felt the presence of the Angel of Death he knew that he would have been foolish and godless had he truly laid a hand on her. God had appointed this moment for her and it was not his place to interfere with the plans of the one who set the sun ablaze.
But then he heard something. It was not a prayer… It was Byzantium talking to someone. "Oh, my mighty Rome… you did come for me. Blessed be God for this mercy…"
The Ottoman Empire raised his head and saw that Byzantium was motionless. Nothing on her moved. She was lifeless, her spirit taken away by Angel of Death. And the dark presence left the chamber. Will he come for me one day too, Ottoman Empire wondered as the gentle shadow that was Death disappeared from his senses, and will my passing be as dignified as hers?
For there laid Byzantium, her hands crossed, her eyes closed, smile upon her lips. Her face was serene and now her soul was released from all the woes and hardships of the world.
The Ottoman Empire stood up and looked at Byzantium for one last time. It was as she was only sleeping, dreaming of something beautiful, surrounded by purple. "Sleep well", Ottoman Empire said silently. "You who lived a life amongst purple are now sleeping purple sleep."
As he turned to leave the room the Ottoman Empire noticed that a cross had fallen from a table when Chibitalia had attacked him. He looked at the wooden cross with inscriptions upon it and then he took it up and placed it back on its pedestal. And then he left, leaving the cross to guard Byzantium's eternal rest.
Outside Byzantium's chamber
Outside Chibitalia and Greece stood and when the Ottoman Empire went outside, he felt uneasy. What could he say? Fortunately for him he didn't have to say anything. Greece looked past him and saw the serene figure, like an angel unawares, lying on her bed.
"Mother's gone", Greece said and wiped tears from his eyes.
"Yes", Ottoman Empire answered and then took his hand. "From now on, I will look after you."
Greece didn't resist, but looked into the Ottoman Empire's eyes and the taller man noticed how uncomfortably familiar those eyes were. Byzantium gazed into his soul through those eyes again. "I will grow stronger and bigger", Greece said. "And I will be free from you." It was not a threat. It was a statement and the Ottoman Empire couldn't help but feel that it was something more more meaningful than any threat could have been. This one would always belong to himself alone.
The two left and Chibitalia stayed behind. He looked at Byzantium's sleep and then he smiled a little bit. "You came for her, Grandpapa", he said and smiled, even though he was still teary-eyed. "I could feel you. Take care of her, Grandpapa." Then he turned and walked away.
And throughout the city and all what once had been the great Byzantine Empire, church bells rang their mighty toll. The Emperor had fallen while defending his city. The Byzantine Empire had fallen. Second Rome was no more. A new age was about to begin.