I felt in the mood for writing one of my problematic favs, Turkey. And, thus, my Hungarian ancestors howl in outrage.

Warning: Brief allusions to violence.

A Touch of Kindness

There were times when it was lonely at the top.

Being one of the most powerful empires in the world left Turkey with far more enemies than friends. Most of the European nations hated him on principle, the strongest of the Middle Eastern nations regarded him as a threat, that hulking behemoth Russia had been a relentless thorn in his side, the nations in the Far East were only interested in him for trade purposes, and even Turkey's own palace was filled with squalling territories and provinces who wanted nothing more than to launch rebellions against him.

Turkey sighed as he looked out the window, observing his lush private gardens and the sweeping view of Islambul's bustling port.

All this luxury and power had not been easily won. The city which was once called "Constantinople" had been bought by spilling the blood of someone he'd once named as a friend. Even now, in his mind's eye, Turkey could see the cold, accusing glare of the Byzantine Empire. Turkey's hands shook as he remembered driving his sword into Byzantine's stomach. He'd found him in the royal palace's chapel, praying for salvation, and had goaded his former friend into fighting him, even though Byzantine had no sword on him. The once-great empire had cursed him and ridiculed his victory, even with the blood bubbling past his lips.

"You shall never know peace, Sadik," Byzantine had said, his golden eyes glinting harshly. "My empire may be over, but yours won't last much longer than mine. See you in Hell, traitor."

It had been as the former empire said those last five words that little Greece had run into that chapel and watched his older brother die, with Turkey standing over the body with a sword drenched in blood. Greece had screamed and cried and pounded his little fists against Turkey, shouting that he hated him and would always hate him.

"He shouldn't have had to see that," Turkey thought aloud.

"Shouldn't have to see what?" said a soft voice.

Turkey nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise. He shot around in his seat on the plush cushions to meet the curious gaze of a little girl. It took him a moment to remember her name, but he recognized her as one of his little provinces in Europe. Kosovo, that was who she was. A tiny thing in a blue robe that was several sizes too large, with the sleeves trailing on the ground. Her wide, brown eyes staring up at him from an olive-toned face framed by dark locks of hair.

"I'm sorry, Big Brother Turkey," Kosovo said. "I did not mean to startle you."

"That is all right, Little One," Turkey replied. "Come, sit with me."

The child's face lit up with a bright smile that was missing a few baby teeth and she toddled over to one of the cushions across from him. Turkey smiled back at her and passed her a dish of sweets from the small table beside him – Kosovo's eyes widened in surprise and she eagerly accepted the treats.

"I am surprised," Turkey said as Kosovo bit into a rosewater lokum. "Why did you call me 'Big Brother'? None of my other territories call me that."

"Big Brother Albania said we should," Kosovo said, a white smear of powdered sugar staining the side of her mouth. "He said that you have protected and cared for us for so long, that you are our biggest brother and we should respect you as such."

Now he remembered, Albania was the hot-tempered Illyrian tribe he'd taken in centuries ago – both Kosovo and Albania were part of the Rumelia region of the Ottoman Empire. Albania had been exceedingly wary of outsiders and hadn't trusted Turkey until he'd given a solemn vow that he would look after him. Albania was one of the few well-behaved children in Turkey's care – at least, Albania was well-behaved in the sense that he did not constantly try to rebel against Turkey the way his other territories did. Turkey remembered with fondness a state banquet in which he'd had to entertain a number of nations he hated, in particular that entitled Persian shrew – Albania had been there and spilled a dish of rather greasy köfte all over the woman and her fancy silks.

"You will protect us, yes?" said Kosovo with a wide-eyed look of innocence. "Serbia keeps telling me that he's going to rebel and take me with him again." Her eyes began to water. "I don't want to go with him. He's always mean to me."

The little territory started to hiccup on soft sobs and Turkey, moved by a rare feeling of pity, knelt down in front of her and dried her eyes.

"Do not be sad, Little One," he said with a sincere smile. "I will protect you as best I can."

"Y-you will?"

"Of course. I would never wish for harm to come to such an adorable child." He lightly pinched her cheek, prompting her to giggle.

Kosovo then reached out for him with her tiny hands and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Turkey froze at the gesture. It had been so long since he remembered anyone showing him such tenderness and unconditional affection. He had multiple parental figures throughout his life, though he'd long forgotten who his actual parent nations were. Everyone just moved in and out of his life so quickly that he'd never truly learned how to make those familial connections. He'd grown up alongside Byzantine Empire for a time, until he'd felt the call to go east where he'd discovered tribes of people with whom he felt a nation-bond. After that, he became the Seljuk Empire and began to push his people west – by that point, he'd no longer been a child and was jaded and cynical about life and the world.

Yet, it was impossible for Turkey to not feel something in his weary, lonely heart as the tiny, helpless Kosovo clung to him and looked at him as if he had hung the moon and stars in the sky. Without even realizing it, he was hugging Kosovo right back.

She followed him everywhere, lately.

When he was at official meetings, Turkey pretended not to notice the giggling little girl who would hide behind him or crawl about under the table, or even brazenly just come up and sit on his knee and scowl at anyone who questioned something Turkey had said. The child got into quite a number of glaring contests with Persia.

It also happened that, wherever Kosovo went, Albania would not be far behind.

Whenever Kosovo was hanging about Turkey during the day, Albania could be found standing somewhere nearby like a tiny guard – he once even managed to find a helmet, as well as a dagger which he kept tucked into his belt.

Albania was a feisty child, Turkey noticed. He had a somewhat mercurial nature and did not tolerate insults towards himself, his little sister, or anyone he respected. Turkey also appeared to be on Albania's list of people he cared about, as he discovered when Albania punched Serbia in the face when the brat got particularly mouthy and called Turkey a "filthy Mohammedan dog." Turkey would be lying if he said he immediately intervened and pulled Albania off Serbia before the fight could escalate.

Turkey had to admit that it was…pleasant to have Albania and Kosovo around. He'd never really noticed before how attentive they were to him, how much they looked up to him, or how many tasks and chores they willingly undertook for him…for him, for Turkey. There was none of the coldness or simmering resentment in their dark eyes, only respect and a familial devotion which, in all honesty, touched Turkey's heart.

1689

Albania was crying into his pillow, trying to shield his face so that Turkey couldn't see him acting so weak.

Turkey stood in the doorway, watching the child with a heavy sorrow of his own. A sorrow brought on by feelings of guilt. Guilt at his failure and disgrace. He had lost Kosovo. That sweet, innocent girl had been snatched from them by that smirking Serb and that snooty fop Austria. Serbia had turned to Austria to back a foolish bid for independence and the two of them had managed to get their greedy hands on poor little Kosovo.

It was Turkey's fault and he knew it. He had overplayed his hand. He'd been so confident after his attacks on Poland and Lithuania that he'd thought himself strong enough to march straight into Vienna to bring down the Habsburgs. His arrogance had cost him dearly.

Not only did Austria have that rebellious little brat Serbia helping him, he had allied with Poland and Lithuania, the Venetian Republic, that gargantuan maniac Russia, and even that annoying idiot Spain. To add insult to injury, Hungary had taken the opportunity to abandon her post and join with Austria's forces – Turkey had always suspected that that gender-confused hag would stab him in the back for a chance to leave his empire and rejoin her tiny holdout of a kingdom. To top it off, Transylvania had gone with her.

Turkey's other so-called allies weren't much better. Wallachia and Moldavia were only loyal to each other and were prepared to desert the instant they thought they could break their statuses as tributaries. Crimea was a miserable disappointment whose only skill was in enslaving and selling half-starved Russian and Polish serfs (a pitiful description for a nation related to the Golden Horde with the proud blood of the Tatars in his veins).

That was essentially everyone fighting on Turkey's side, other than a few loyal vassals like Albania and Kosovo – but even those could be counted on one hand. Not even his allies and neighbors to the east were interested in getting involved.

Turkey glanced back down at the trembling form of Albania and something inside of him just snapped. A burning, white-hot rage coursed through him and he grit his teeth as his resolve hardened in his heart. One way or another, he would bring Kosovo home.

2008

Turkey straightened his tie as he stood in the elevator. He glanced to his right where a pretty teenage girl fidgeted with her long braid and, to her right, a rugged young man leaned back against the wall.

"You'll be fine, Arjana," Turkey said to the girl.

"What if I mess up?" the girl answered, her warm brown eyes staring up at him with the same quiet awe they'd always had. "What if I…what if I can't be a nation?"

"Arjana, Republic of Kosovo," Turkey said firmly. "You are every bit as much a nation as I or Albania, here."

Albania smiled softly and rested a strong hand on Kosovo's shoulder.

"We will be with you every step of the way, Little Sister," he said. "Me, and Turkey, and America, and England, and France, and almost everyone."

"'Almost everyone,' Bekim?" Kosovo said nervously.

"Well, that little brat Serbia obviously doesn't want you to be recognized," said Turkey. "Neither do Russia or China. I know of only a few countries who will join them, so don't worry. You have a vast majority of the United Nations on your side."

"And if anyone doesn't recognize you who said they would, I'll make them acknowledge you," added Albania, curling his right hand into a fist and lightly punching it into his free hand.

Kosovo gave a watery smile and reached out either arm to pull her two big brothers into a hug. The two larger nations tried to pretend they weren't blushing at the gesture, but didn't pull away until the elevator gave a 'ding' to let them know they were on their floor. The three nations stood tall as they exited and made their way towards the conference room.

Turkey and Albania continued to flank Kosovo on either side, staring down the handful of nations who refused to sign the official recognition of their little sister's independence. Turkey knew it would be a lot of work for Kosovo to secure and maintain her independence, but he would stand by her. He always would.

All because of the little girl who showed him a touch of kindness.

Author's Note: The city we now know as "Istanbul" was not officially renamed as such until 1930. Until that time, it was referred to either as "Islambul" or "Kostantiniyye."

Also, I don't think Ancient Greece became the Byzantine Empire as I believe is indicated in one of the Hetalia sources. The Byzantine Empire was very, very different and was more like the bastard son of Ancient Greece and the Roman Empire (hence, what my OC Byzantine Empire is).

The "Persia" I mention is Iran, not to be confused with Hetalia's Persia who is Ancient Persia.

Köfte is a type of meatball dish. Lokum is what is more commonly known as "Turkish Delight."

Albania and Kosovo were historically the most loyal subjects of the Ottoman Empire; albeit with some exceptions, but most Albanians and ethnically-Albanian Kosovars were fiercely devoted to the Ottoman Empire. Kosovo was in a very tricky position, being between Albania and Serbia (as the Serbs pretty much hated the Ottoman Empire and took any chance they could to leave – as did most other vassal states), and was frequently fought over.

Kosovo only remained under Austria's control for a year or so during the Great Turkish War before being retaken by the Ottomans, so rest assured that Turkey made good on his promise to bring Kosovo home.