Gaaaah, historical accuracy is all I have left. I do not own Hetalia or the characters.

Sadiq felt his fingers curl into fists as he glared over the parapets of Istanbul's walls. How? How had this happened he raged silently, unwilling to let his companion on the wall hear his cries of loss. The damn Russian, how had he beaten him, the unstoppable juggernaut that was the Ottoman Empire had faltered to the constantly smiling empire. Kievan Rus was what he was once called, yet now he dared proclaim himself an empire, the Empire of Russia!

He despised the Russian with a passion he generally reserved to the Greek. Where had Greece gone anyway, the empire wondered as he cast his gaze around the wall. The nation had gone missing a few days ago, and the war had diverted all of the Turks attention. When I find that brat, Sadiq thought to himself as he curled his hand about his sword meaningfully with a ghost of a smile, I'll...

"They seem to be having trouble passing the Turkish straights mon ami." Sadiq's companion chirped, though the word ami was laced with fairly imperceptible sarcasm. Sadiq noticed, as he did live with Egypt who's few words said much but his tone always said more.

He glanced at his companion in irritation at having his thoughts interrupted, his characteristic mask hiding the emotion splayed across his visage. Sadiq snorted in contempt at the comment, he had known full well that Russia would be unable to attack Istanbul directly.

"Of course they are," Sadiq said disdainfully, "they were fools to believe they could climb my walls with ease." He finished with a dark grin as he turned back to observe the sea lapping at the rocky shore, his 'walls' against his enemies.

"We have used the walls nature gave us well." The man said happily, ignorant of the glance Sadiq shot him at the term 'we'. He hated how the world had changed. New empires had grown from Europe and dominated the world now, his companion being one of them which only added to his ire. "It is too bad that your wooden wall failed you." Sadiq let his grin drop abruptly at that. It was true, regardless of how much he wished to deny it. The Russians had decimated his fleet of ships with ease, leaving him vulnerable to attacks from the sea.

"If he had not had help he would have failed." Sadiq grumbled, noticing how childish his protest sounded as the Frenchman smiled at him again.

"Ces't vrai, but the same could be said for you non?" Though France had phrased it as a question, Turkey knew it was anything but. The cocky nation had grown powerful in the last few centuries, just as England had, the nation who had aided the Russian navy.

A burgeoning power in the medieval world when the clash of swords and flights of arrows blackened the skies, he had grown stronger with his fleets of ships and colonies in the 'New World'. The knowledge that he had taken to the east by going around Turkey had pleased him at first, believing it had assured him of his own power that still remained.

The feeling had not remained long.

The world no longer looked to the east, to Turkey. They no longer needed him. No longer needed the spices he sold or the gold he carried the exotic goods that had to pass through him and lined his pockets with their journey. Theirs was a world of colonies overseas, of fantastic machines and change that delighted and enriched these new empires.

Sadiq's world?

His world was a world of jewels and thrones. A world of concubines and palaces, rich culture and the strong arm of an army trained in tactics tried and true. In short, his was an empire of glories and glamour where gold glittered and the old ways remembered and honoured.

Stagnation. Sadiq cursed that word, cursed it in every language he knew. It was the curse of empires and he couldn't live with the knowledge it brought. He had brought Byzantine to his knees with new technology, the cannon blasting holes in the old empires fabled walls. He had mocked the empire for being weak, not changing and embracing the new.

It was ironic that he was now a victim of the very same affliction, one that snuck up on nations and brought them low, broke them and scattered them. It was what killed his predecessor and he hadn't been able to accept it was killing him too.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

He didn't have a choice.

"Anglettere is truly a marvel at sea." The Frenchman said, swooning in delight. Sadiq shot another spiteful glare at the other empire. He loathed the romantic beside him. He hated the way he walked with a swagger in his hips. He hated how the Frenchman flirted with everything in arms reach. He hated how France gave him a look of condescension whenever he felt like it, not even bothering to hide his contempt of the Turk. He hated how he had brought his own chef, calling Turkey's food 'barbaric'. But above all else, Turkey hated the fact that he needed him.

Sadiq huffed in annoyance at that. He had been impressed by the Englishman and the way he had whipped the Russian navy into the force that battered at his shore but he would never admit it out loud to the accursed Frenchman.

"He shall not take my city." Sadiq said savagely. France merely smiled at the Turk, that accursed lewd grin he habitually wore. Sadiq had to wonder if the other European nations found France equally repulsive, or if he simply focused his aggravation at losing to the smiling Russian at the nearest European in sight.

"What's wrong," France asked in mock sympathy, knowing he could get away with it because Sadiq would not dare send him away, "is someone mad because they lost." Sadiq narrowed his eyes at that remark before adopting a cruel and sadistic smile of his own.

"Maybe you would like to make it better?" He asked heatedly, his grin widening as France lost a bit of his smile, eyes flashing in nervousness. "Are you going to show me how 'amore'," he said the word lustfully, "will take away my pain." His grin stretched as far as it could when France dropped the last of his smile and turned back to looking at the sea, his face much whiter than it had been previously.

"Perhaps another time." France responded in a troubled voice, absently rubbing his forearm. Sadiq let his smile drop in mock disappointment. When France had first arrived to help, he had attempted to seduce Turkey, perhaps because of his reputation as the nation of love demanded the attempt. Sadiq had been all too happy to accommodate the nation. He chuckled as said Frenchman rubbed his arm. Weakling, the cuts wouldn't even leave a scar. None of the nations in Europe truly knew what a real scar was like, they did not have the proper instructors.

"Little Rus, aren't you happy? I bet you don't even really know what it is to be sad, or you would smile all the time. Shall I show you?"

Turkey shuddered slightly, pulling his robes a little closer as he attempted to banish the thoughts back into the depths of his mind. One European nation did know what it was like to have scars, he supposed. More the pity he had learned so young.

"I heard that Egypt was giving you trouble not too long ago, were you unable to recruit his aid in your war?" France asked, his mocking tone returning with a vengeance. Sadiq scowled at that, the truth in his words stinging. Egypt had rebelled during the war, a small one but one that proved to be an unnecessary distraction to the Turk. Though the rebellion was crushed, it had been costly to repress with Russia banging on his door.

"He was disobedient." Sadiq said simply, shrugging. "He has been dealt with."

"I see." France responded simply, knowing that the punishment the silent nation had likely suffered to have been harsh. Sadiq would not deny it, but he had been fair in his punishment. Still, he wondered at the fact that Gupta had rebelled at all. It was unlike him to act out so... obviously. He frowned at that thought; he had always been the quiet one, the one whose antics paled in comparison of his friends. So what had been different? The scale, he supposed. Egypt had grown up along with Greece.

Greece.

Greece!

That was what was truly different, both boys had always had their little rebellions together, yet Gupta had done it alone.

Sadiq whipped around, France jumping with a start at the unexpected movement. If Gupta had rebelled alone, then why had Greece not supported him? There was a play behind the scenes and Sadiq distrusted it.

A bid for freedom? It seemed most likely, and Sadiq would make damn sure that wouldn't happen. Sadiq knew of ways to leave scars, scars that would never heal.

An image of violet eyes, pleading to the Turk flashed in his mind. Sadiq pushed the image down and trampled on it, burying it deep enough that he would not have to remember the tears that had followed, or the screams. It had quite the sobering effect.

He would never cut Heracles that deep, Sadiq reassured himself, never.

Meh, I'm not really happy with this chapter but it was necessary to build up to the next one, also I wanted to write Turkey realizing he was vulnerable; I may come back and rewrite it later. Read and Review please.