A/N: This is short, but took a long time to write- I hadn't realised how rusty I'd become. As always, constructive criticism is welcome.
Disclaimer: Altair belongs to Kotono Kato.
Orhan remained on his knees when he eventually moved the his father's body down his lap and laid him to rest on the cold stone floor. The dazed expression on his face seemed at odds with the constant flow of tears from his eyes, and Ayse thought for the first time in years that her evaluation of his emotional state might not be entirely accurate.
Sadness had consistently been the one thing that could throw her off, and the fact that it was coming from Orhan made it all the more disorienting.
"Orhan," she said softly, "now is hardly the time to grieve."
He looked up at her, his whole body trembling. "I-I didn't think I would actually slay him, Hanim," he said hoarsely. "I just knew I had to save you, and-" he gestured uselessly and tried to wipe his tears off his face with his sleeve. "For a few moments, I was angrier with him than I have ever been in my whole life."
He shifted his gaze to the floor and added almost inaudibly, "But I could never truly hate the man who cared for and advised me for so long, especially when he was doing what he thought was best for the sultanate."
Do you regret this?
The question was on the tip of Ayse's tongue, and she found herself unable to muster the frustration and disappointment necessary to ask it; sudden visions of the guilt she would feel when she would have to kill her own mother had struck her.
The look of sorrowful resignation on Mother's face before she died either from a stab wound or poisoning. Kemal begging and crying when he heard of the news.
Her fingers twitched briefly, and her grip on the fabric of the her gown tightened. She was sickened- at both the images and herself.
I told myself that I was prepared to face the consequences. I cannot hesitate- not when we haven't much time left.
She had almost steeled herself when she saw Orhan jerkily lean forwards. One reached for his father's face, fingering the mask and lifting it, while the other hand went to Selim's arm, clasping his hand like a child.
He was staring at his father's peaceful face when he spoke. Both his expression and tone were full of emotion- sadness, anger and a resolve she would never have expected from him. "But I did it, didn't I? I acted selfishly, and must take responsibility for it. For you, Mahmut Bey, and h-him." His voice wavered, and he took a deep breath before looking at her again.
She understood this time- this was a plea for honesty, not comfort.
The words came quickly, easily to her after her initial surprise had dissipated. They were based on her own observations, which were subjective by default. They were her truths, not his. But Orhan had genuinely trusted her frank assessments- had always tried to understand them despite the inevitable confusion they brought him. The least she could do was return that kind of respect when her friend needed it, and not let her fears distort her conclusions.
She shook her head in self-reproach and knelt down so that she could meet his eyes. "I believe your father's last words indicated no horror or anger," she said slowly, gently. "Sultan Selim died thinking of the state, and I think you would honour him by taking up his burden and fashioning it your own way."
He was proud of you, as am I.
The doors burst open as she stood up. She spared a last glance at Orhan after Suleyman and Abiriga questioned them about Selim and filled them in on the chaos occurring outside. His hold on his father's hand had loosened, and was clutching the mask as if it were some kind of crucial support structure. His jaw was firm, and- despite what she knew and suspected- she felt a faint pang of envy at his defiant expression.
They were all hurrying out of the hall to meet up with Mahmut in a matter of minutes. Quick movement proved to be a blessing- she was able to focus on the present much more easily this time.
It will be very painful, but I know what lies in the balance. If I survive, I will have time to mourn later.
The thought of crying in the privacy of her room almost seemed like a comfort.