The first one was in a weird format! Let's try this again. I hope you guys like this, let me know if you think it's something I should continue or not!
~DDM~
"Father please," she begged as her long, dark hair was cut away with a sharp knife. She felt every pull and tug, watching as her hair fell to the floor.
"It's what's best." He said firmly, standing to the side. "We don't have much time, the Sultan is expecting the delivery of boys tomorrow."
"But why me?" she asked desperately.
"The kingdom can't afford to lose it's heir."
She looked over at her brother. Vlad sat on the window seat, staring out the window and refusing to look at his sister.
"They'll kill me once they find out who I am." she said, green eyes filling with more tears as her brother's clothes were shoved into her arms.
"Then its best you hide as long as you can." He said callously.
She was forced to dress in boy's clothes, dust smudged onto her otherwise beautiful face. When she looked into the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. Gone was her hair that used to reach her lower back, now choppy and uneven, it hung in her eyes; her dresses replaced with her brother's travel clothes, held on by a belt. Before she knew it, she was being hustled out of the castle to join the boys that had been gathered for the Sultan's army. The strange Ottoman helmets were pointed, the men's faces obscured by beards.
The camp was loud and muddy from the many pairs of boots after the rains.
"Keep moving, princeling," snapped a man behind her and she was shoved, falling into the mud amidst laughter. "You'll find no special treatment here."
She picked herself back up, heart racing with both anger and indignation. She may not have been the ideal daughter to her family, but she still had never been so mistreated. She forced herself to her feet, letting her rage fill her heart, hardening it to her purpose. She would survive this, she would not let it beat her.
Training began and she applied herself to the sword, her under developed body helping her hide her truth from the men around here. She became wrath, twin swords an extension of herself. For two years she hid, trained, fought and bled along side the other recruits. The mistreatment stopped as she outpaced all those around her, her pension for silence only adding to her new reputation; she did not argue with her words, but with her fists. It wasn't until the end of her second year did anyone begin to question who she was.
"Vlad," barked one of the sentry's as she passed on her way back to the barracks after training.
She paused and tilted her head in question, long since used to answering to her brother's name.
"You are wanted in the throne room." Two more men appeared on either side of her, looking stern and suspicious. When she didn't move, her shoulder was shoved by one of the guards.
"Go." He snapped and she rolled her eyes.
The throne room was more extravagant then her father's entire palace. Gold gilded the walls, statues with gems for eyes watched as she passed. Stopping in the center of the room, watched by the Sultan himself, along with his court.
"You are the Prince I have heard so much about?" the Sultan asked, she nodded.
"I have heard something different." Said the young man standing beside the throne. He was handsome, tall and dressed in the finest silks; she recognized him as the Sultan's son Mehmed. His dark eyes bored into her green ones as she looked at him, ignoring the fact she should lower her gaze when in the presence of Ottoman royalty.
"What have you heard, my son?" the Sultan asked, a smirk playing under his mustache, obviously already knowing what he would say.
"There have been rumors that he…is a woman."
Whispers erupted around the room, but she never even flinched. She knew, one day, someone would learn who she really was. Now, at the age of sixteen, it was becoming harder to hid her developing body and finer features.
"Show me," the Sultan said, gesturing to the men behind her and she knew what they were going to do, she'd seen it happen to slaves in the past. One man grabbed at her tunic, intending to remove it, but he never got the chance. She ducked beneath his arm, grabbed his sword from his side and held it to his throat. Everyone in the room froze, stunned by her speed.
"Father," the prince said. "Perhaps if we simply ask her."
"Lower your sword, girl." The Sultan said firmly. "Your reputation seems well earned, few of my men react so quickly." She glanced at him, frowning uncertainly, before lowering the blade, but keep a hold on it, just in case she needed it. "How did you come to be here?"
"My father was unwilling to let go of his son." She said simply, speaking for the first time in months. Her voice was calm, the feminine tone giving her away instantly.
"So, he sent a girl," the prince scowled, seemingly offended.
"What should we do with you," the Sultan said, leaning one elbow on the arm of his golden throne. "Your father deceived me, you deceived me."
"I'll take her." Mehmed said suddenly, she locked eyes with him, scowling, his father looked over at him in surprise. "I don't have a woman with those eyes."
She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, ready to use it to defend herself if needed. She would fight to the death before letting herself become part of the royal harem for the prince.
"What say you girl?" the Sultan asked and it was his son's turn to scowl. "Would you like to be part of my son's women?"
"No." she said simply and the prince now glared at her.
"What should I do with you then?"
"I've been trained to fight, I would continue."
"You'd prefer to be part of the army over living in the luxury of the harem?" Mehmed asked incredulously.
"Yes."
There was silence for a moment before the Sultan began to laugh.
"If you want to be part of my army, you must prove yourself worthy. I have heard of your skill, but I would see it for myself." he gestured with his hand and a guard stepped forward from behind his seat. "Beat him, and I will not only let you stay, I will promote you."
She shrugged, gripping her sword tightly as the man walked down the steps and stalked toward her. He smiled nastily at her, drawing his sword.
"Want to play, little girl?" he asked snidely, dark eyes filled with maliciousness. She didn't respond, just waited for him to reach her. Her silence seemed to irritate the man and he swung as soon as he was near enough. She stepped backward, avoiding the blow before ducking and spinning, bringing herself past the guard he'd lowered. She slid her sword across the man's midsection before swiftly moving away again. The man paused, looking down at his bleeding wound. He turned to glare at her furious, but she stared calmly back at him, only enraging him further. He lunged and she dodged, kicking out one leg to connect with his knee, he stumbled. Another wild swing and she lashed out with one leg again, this time, kicking the sword out of the man's hand and into the air. He went down on one knee and she punched him in his face with the hand holding her own sword, breaking his nose. She caught the other blade as it came back down, turning and putting one on either side of his neck. She saw the fear in his eyes as she stared down at him.
"I don't play." She said before sliding both swords across either side of his neck, his head tumbled from his shoulders as blood sprayed her in the face.
The room was silent once more before she heard clapping and turned to see the Sultan on his feet, his son looking both intrigued and irritated beside him.
"Kaf was one of my best." He said, moving down the stairs toward her. She lowered her swords, having no intention of hurting the man. "What is your name?"
"Alexandra." She said, her own name sounding foreign to her from years of answering to her brother's name.
"Dear Alexandra, you have proved yourself and I am a man of my word. You may remain in my service, but I would have you replace Kaf as part of my guard, everything he owned is now yours."****
She stared, stunned. She wasn't going to be killed, or forced to be part of the harem. She bowed low, eyes dropping respectfully for the first time. When she looked up, she locked eyes with Prince Mehmed again, he looked bothered and possibly disappointed.
"My son will show you to Kaf's quarters, you can clean up there. You are expected at dinner."
She bowed once more and the Sultan swept past her, his court gave her a wide berth as they followed him, glancing warily at the body of the dead guard. She watched as the Prince came down the stairs, scowling at her as he passed without a word; she followed him.
They walked in silence, she memorized the way, noticing landmarks and tapestries to help find her way again.
"You are an odd one." Mehmed said as he stopped next to a heavy looking door. He pushed it open and stepped aside to let her pass.
The room was quite different form the barracks she was used to living in. It was richly furnished, tapestries adorned the walls, weapons were displayed, but it was messy; apparently Kaf wasn't much for cleaning. She looked around, it reminded her more of the room she'd left behind at her father's castle.
"Clean up, dinner will be in two hours." Said the man behind her and she nodded, looking at him over her shoulder.
"Thank you." She said, moving toward the door on the opposite side of the room that held her now personal bathroom.
"I am disappointed," Mehmed said and she looked back at him. "I was hoping our children would have your eyes, perhaps later."
He left, closing the door behind him.
She scoffed, slamming the bathroom door behind her, irritated herself now. She was not a breeding sow. She looked around the bathroom, it was far more opulent than what she was used to in the barracks. The steam rising from the large tub told her it had been filled recently, mostly likely by slaves expecting their master would be returning soon, deciding to take advantage of the still hot water, she stripped down and climbed in.
Life would be different from now on, and she was looking forward to the new challenge.***
