The Girl Between the Two Seas

Part 4: Blond Man and a Tall Ship

When the 16th century rolled around Iran was finally able to look back at the invasion without feeling pain. It was now part of her history and a lesson learned. She had thought her culture wouldn't survive the trauma. She was glad she had been wrong.

Looking at the indigo blue of the Caspian Sea she smiled at the recollection. Not only had she been able to keep her culture alive and nurture it back to exuberance, she had managed to affect those who had captured her land as well, using that very same culture. The new religion had changed her, that much was true, but she too had changed the religion. From the raw, nomadic and partly barbaric Islam that had come from the planes of Arabia a new faith was born, full of beauty, architecture, scripture and poetry. Instead of letting Islam take over her and turn her into a helpless puppet, she and her people had taken Islam in their hands and polished it into a jewel. In the end, both the religion and the nation had become stronger for it.

I am Iran. I am immortal.

She picked a tuberose from a cluster and smelled it. Its scent cloaked her like an aura, making her close her eyes. Perfect, she thought, and tucked the flower in her hair near the edge of the sheer veil that hung like an accessory on the back of her head.

Things had become so much better. Even the dress code no longer counted as one. She had her own fashion now, and different traditional outfits incorporating the veil had sprung up from every corner of the country.

It hadn't meant the end of her troubles though and least of all the last invasion into her lands. Her body still bore the scars of the Mongols, who crossed the Alborz mountains and conquered her so swiftly she was stunned for many days, waking up to cities full of corpses and rivers full of blood. The Tatars weren't any better as Timur the Cripple had promised to follow the example of his idol Genghis Khan to the last detail, invading Iran, killing masses and setting towns and villages on fire. She had been petrified on both occasions. But there was a difference between how she handled those as opposed to when the Arabs had attacked. She no longer felt hopeless.

She knew that no matter how much they killed, plundered and destroyed, no matter how much they tried to change things and turn them their own way, in the end they would all go down the path Alexander had gone. They would fall for her millennia old, captivating culture and get so caught up in it that in the end you wouldn't be able to tell them from her people. And exactly as she had predicted, it had happened to both the Mongol and Tatar rulers that succeeded the invaders. They were assimilated into the nation's population and become some of the biggest supporters of the Persian heritage. It was a heartwarming reality that always reminded her of the first time Alexander had worn a Persian garb.

Now, in the midpoint of the 16th century, she was facing a new challenger. His name was Sadiq and he was an Ottoman Turk from north east. They had wrestled with each other much like Grandpa Persia and Momma Greece. The man was a fierce and crafty warrior. His troops alone had caused the defeat of one of her greatest kings, Shah Ismail, and had captured her capital. And even though in the end they had to leave and weren't able to conquer the nation due to the bravery and endurance of the Persians, they still posed a major threat.

Iran remembered the first time she had seen the masked man on the battlefield. He had looked at her with a smirk, confident that this would be an easy conquest. She knew better. She had seen the bottom of absolute fear and lived to talk about it. This man was not half as intimidating as Genghis Khan or Timur. Her soldiers were willing to die for their country and nearly all were either seasoned warriors or energetic young men. She knew she had a good chance against him.

Sadly the disadvantage came when instead of swords and arrows, Sadiq's soldiers attacked with dangerous weapons that could shoot fiery balls from a distance. Against this new and frightening advancement none of the Persians' armaments or strategies had any effect.

Iran bit her lip and threw the pebble she was holding into the water. She knew if she wanted to continue to stand against Sadiq she needed firearms. She just didn't know where to get it. She was told there were countries beyond the seas that produced those weapons. But she had neither seen nor communicated with any of them. They had seemed so far away and so foreign that her thoughts never reached their shores. Now, sitting on the familiar beach near the water, she wondered whether she should build a boat, fill it with engineers and wise men and set sail to find the places that made guns and cannons.

As if conjured by her thoughts, a tall ship with massive white sails appeared on the calm surface of the big lake and slowly glided toward her.

On the helm of the ship stood a man with the most ridiculous triangular hat she had ever seen. He had one foot placed on the railing of the ship, above the extravagant statue of a mermaid, and was holding one of the sail ropes in his hand. Aside from his funny hat and outfit, the only other things about him that caught the Eastern nation's attention were his thick eyebrows and straw blond hair.

The ship finally reached shore and the man left the deck in one wide swoop, jumping onto the sand. Another man, older and less excited, with strawberry colored hair and a thick beard, came down next to him and stood near the ship as the blonde made his way around the beach.

"Look at this, Jenkinson," the first man said, "Can you believe it? Who would have thought that Russian bastard had such a beautiful beach south of his lands."

The man named Jenkinson cleared his throat and said, "Captain Kirkland Sir, I don't believe this land belongs to Mr. Braginsky."

The captain stopped his happy trot and turned to look at the other man. "You know what? I think you're right. Otherwise he would have bragged about it a long time ago like he does with those poor Baltics all the time."

He shaded his eyes with his hand and scanned the area. "But it won't be long, I tell you. A place like this at his doorsteps…sooner or later he'd come to claim it. And then…oh wait, what's that?"

Iran had been hiding behind a cherry tree and was looking at the scene while in cover. When the emerald gaze landed on her she quickly slipped back behind the tree. She didn't know who these people were and their strange outfits didn't sit right with her. Experience had shown her that strange things always meant trouble and she didn't want to deal with any trouble before she had spent enough time investigating it.

"What is it, Captain?" asked Jenkinson.

"A girl. She's standing behind that tree. Look. And she's giving this vibe. I believe she's like me."

Like him, Iran wondered. This man was one of them, a nation like her and Sadiq. And he had come from the North; a place that to date was still a big mystery to her.

She stepped out from her hiding place and stood in front of the man. He stared at her for a while, mouth open, before he collected himself and said, "Hi there. I'm Arthur Kirkland, England. What's your name?"

She tilted her head to one side and said, "Nice to meet you England. I'm Iran."

He waited and when no other introduction came leaned a bit forward and asked, "Just Iran? You have no other name?"

"Other name? What do you mean?"

"Like my name, Arthur Kirkland. You may call it a human name. You don't have any of those?"

The question somehow bothered her and she looked away at the ground. "No, I'm just Iran," she answered.

Arthur smiled. He reached forward and touched her arm, drawing her attention to him. "Hey, don't worry about it. Iran is a beautiful name. I'm going to call you that from now on."

She looked up and smiled as well. Something in the man's countenance reminded her of Alexander and she felt an immediate natural affection towards him.

"Would you like to come to my house for some tea?" she said.

Arthur stuttered, surprised at the invitation. "I'm not sure. I have a lot of business to attend. I wasn't planning to stay here too long. And my men…"

"Your men are invited too."

"Really?" he perked up.

She nodded her head.

"Well, not all of them can come. Someone needs to watch over the ship. But I wouldn't mind giving my officers and first mate here some relaxation time."

A few hours later they were sitting in Iran's new house in Isfahan sipping on aromatic tea and sampling delicious sweets. Iran served them herself, the feeling of nostalgia and the memory of her Macedonian lover returning to her like a tidal wave. This Arthur was handsome. True he was occasionally bitter and tended to get prissy with his men but none of that showed in his face when he gazed at her or her land. She suspected he liked her home and was feeling comfortable in it. That feeling satisfied the intrinsic hostess in her and made the process of serving him and his men fun.

Arthur for his part was fascinated. He wasn't a stranger to the East. India was one of his colonies and he had been to that land many times. But India was wild, hot and unpredictable. You always had to be on your toes with her and owning her as a colony sometimes caused more headache than it was worth. This land was different. It looked almost as rich as India yet instead of spice and heat it was full of tranquility and varied nature. From moist forests to tall mountains to the sleeping deserts and the two seas, everything spoke of a quiet history. And more importantly, everything seemed raw and untapped. It was obvious that none of the other nations had set foot here. Not even Russia who had a penchant to "check out" his neighbors. The Brit thought to himself - as he leaned back and put another baklava in his mouth – that he might have struck gold in this unknown, untouched territory.

His eyes fell on the gentle face of Iran. She was beautiful, very much so despite her demure behavior – or perhaps because of it – and the strange conservative yet colorful dress she wore. This was a nation born from an ancient heritage yet everything about her seemed fresh and young. It would be as fun to explore the nation as it was to discover the land.

There was also the problem of Sadiq. He was getting too powerful and England felt he needed to learn everything about his neighbors, enemies and allies in order to have an upper hand with the rapidly expanding Turkish Empire.

"You've done so much for us, dear lovely Iran. You really took the travel fatigue out of my men. Is there anything I can do for you?" Arthur said.

Iran asked shyly, "Could you please tell me first where you've come from?"

"But I already told you. I'm England. You know, UK, Great Britain?"

"I know, but…where is England exactly?"

"Where?" England scratched his head. He was so used to being a sea captain and bending over maps all day that he had forgotten there were nations out there that didn't know as much as him about the rest of the world.

"Well, England is part of Europe. The continent on the other side of Turkey. England is this big island on the very end of that continent."

"Europe," she whispered, and her countenance suddenly brightened up for a reason Arthur didn't know.

He could sense she was struggling with some thought. Or wanted to say something and wasn't quite sure if she should. He was familiar with the timidity and pride that ran within all these Eastern nations so he leaned forward and repeated in a warmer, friendlier tone, "Is there anything I could do to repay you for your kindness?"

She looked down and said, "I was wondering if you would visit me more often."

The Brit raised an eyebrow. What? "Of course. But only if you would allow me access to all parts of your beautiful land and its gorgeous nature… I want to see and feel everything." His eyes roamed over the trees and flowers nearby and suddenly the spirit of the opportunist in him reared its head. "But you have to ask me something in return," he added.

Iran looked up, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of hope. She said, "Would you mind helping me against Turkey so I could hold him back?"

Perfect! Arthur thought. It couldn't have been better. She was asking for the same thing that had been on his mind since he had come here. Now here was the solution, practically thrown at him.

"Of course," he said, "what do you want me to do?"

"I've heard Europeans have cannons and guns. Sadiq has them too and that's how he beat me last time. Could you give my men some guns and teach them how to use them? If you did that I would be forever thankful and give you anything you want."

Anything I want.

Arthur looked at the rosy lips and supple body, wondering what this nation, in her desperate need for protection, was offering. One thing was plane as daylight to him: Iran, despite having been around for over a millennium, seemed as naïve and trusting as a child. She had a tenderness and innocence about her that was simply begging to be exploited.

I'm not going to be the one to do that, he told himself, besides what she's asking me is completely in line with what I want so why shouldn't I accept?

Turning up his smile a few degrees England said, "Not only will I give you firearms and teach your men how to use them, I'll personally help you defeat Sadiq."

He truly enjoyed the look of surprise and happiness that appeared in her eyes as he put his hand in hers. A new alliance was born and the voices of his magical friends were telling him it was going to be a good one.

---

In the 16th century with the take over of the Safavid Dynasty Iran finally managed to get back some of its previous glory and once again be called an empire. Shah Ismail was the first Savafid king that united the country as a whole and established a solid Shiite central government. His later successor Shah Abbas expanded this prominence and set out to make Iran one of the most powerful nations in the region by making strong alliances with the then influential European countries.

The British first came to Iran in late 16th century from north (although later most their ships chose the gulf in the south as their entry point.) Before you ask how they got their ships into the Caspian Sea, which is a lake, I need to remind you this is Arthur we are talking about and he is capable of magic. (But really I think they sailed through a lot of rivers.)

This is a part of Iran's history that is a bit brighter. Iran is happy here because she likes England and he wants to protect her against Sadiq (which is historically true as the British, like the Iranians, were worried about the Ottomans getting too strong.) I will try to keep the relationship between Arthur and Iran as close to history as possible.

Sorry if England seems a bit OC. I'll try to balance his Hetalia character with the smooth and crafty people the British who visited Iran really were. Also sorry I glossed over so much of Iran's history. The Mongol and Tatar conquests were truly important events, as were many other wars. But this is a Hetalia fic and I figured I'd better get to the parts where Hetalis characters would come into picture.

Reviews make me happy.