Thank you for the kind reviews! I'm glad people are enjoying this. It's become rather dear to me.

Notes: Please remember this is an AU with a decidedly non-ninja setting! It is highly influenced by an unhealthy obsession with Turkish divan poetry, countless history books on the Ottoman Empire, and the brilliant Ferzan Özpetek's Harem Suare.

At one glance I love you with a thousand hearts.
 Mihri Hatun

02: you are cast down, my heart

"Come on! Let's go watch, new ones are coming in." Izumo tugged Iruka's hand and dragged him into the open salon of the seraglio. They were hardly alone; it seemed the entire populace was gathering to watch the soldiers bring in new servants and concubines. It wasn't always obvious which would be which. Iruka had been certain he'd be given servant duties, but as yet, it hadn't happened.

"Soon they'll be bringing the girls in. There's a spot in the garden, a small crack, where you can see through to the front gates. We can see them as they take them to the harem."

"What's the point?"

Izumo stared at him as if it were obvious. "It's something to do."

As they brought the newest additions in, Iruka thought back to the day he was brought here. His uncle had told him that the man who'd promised to buy him hadn't shown up. He was so sorry, but he had his own children to feed. Iruka was one too many orphan in a village decimated by war. The way Uncle had counted the money had suggested to Iruka he wasn't as sorry as he said. His own children were the priority and once again Iruka found himself shipped off to another stranger.

Only this stranger wasn't so simple. The terrifying man, who greeted him after the guards that escorted Iruka from his uncle's home left, explained it very simply: "You belong to the Sultan now. You'll behave or he'll have you beheaded."

Iruka had stared at the man—no, the monster—barely understanding what was going on around him, as they dragged him into a lushly appointed room. He barely had a chance to take it all in before a glimpse of red eyes in his direction had spun him into a dizzy faint. Painful red dreams left him tossing and turning. He woke up the next morning in a small room with three beds.

He'd been terrified at the time, though not just of the vile man who had escorted him into the palace. He'd only had to do physical labour in his years for working for his uncle. Something told him a different fate awaited here.

A young man with a face cloth wrapped across his nose greeted him. He was waiting on the side of the bed for Iruka to wake up. He looked anxious.

"I'm Kotetsu. Want to eat? Since you're new, I'll show you around."

The tentative friendship that had formed between him, Kotetsu and the other roommate, a young man nearly his age, was the only thing that kept him sane, he was certain.

That and occasionally plotting what sort of revenge he'd take on the man who had lied to him. Well, he would have taken it if he could get out of here, anyway. Thinking about escape was like a frightening daydream. The black robed guards, some faceless, melted into the darkness and one could never be sure when they were watching. Not to mention the burning red eyes that haunted his dreams.

Still, it was nice to fantasise about and gave him something useful for occupying his free time, of which there was so much. He didn't think he'd ever get used to all the free time. No waking early to check the chicken's eggs, splitting logs at the crack of dawn to ensure everyone else was warm; no, servants did that and he wasn't one of the servants.

He tried hard not to think about what his duties might or could eventually be. He'd yet to see the Sultan and even before he'd heard the rumours, he was certain that was a good thing.

Kotetsu told him they rarely saw the Sultan. And though it was curious, most of them were perfectly fine with that, despite the fact that it was a great honour to be called to the Sultan. On occasions when someone was taken for the Sultan, they didn't always return, however, and this led many to fear their name being called.

When the Sultan came to inspect them, the Head Eunuch Kisame would come for them first to prepare them; threatening and violent, he made sure they kept their heads down and eyes averted. Iruka had been in the seraglio, the boy's section of the harem, for nearly six months, he realised, when Kisame announced a coming festival. He hadn't paid much attention to the passing of time however; instead, he admitted somewhat guiltily, he indulged in the pastimes an orphan just never got enjoy.

With his friends Kotetsu and Izumo he played chess and danced until the wee hours of the morning, whether it was for guests or purely for their own enjoyment. They indulged in the delicacies cast off by the Sultan's official harem, and played in the royal gardens like children.

When it was hot, they would soak in the baths, cleaning, then relaxing and playing word games until they wrinkled like raisins. Iruka had never been so clean in his life. Nor so well oiled from all the wrestling games.

The thing Iruka wasn't used to was having no chores. The majority of boys in the seraglio were servants and their duties didn't stop when they were done in the palace. Iruka didn't have to cook, clean, do laundry, or do anything resembling manual labour. The first months it had been nice. Dreamlike. A vacation. But as time wore on, he admitted he was a little bored. He quickly ended any prayers with 'But don't let anything change,' in case he was inadvertently condemning himself. He just wasn't used to a life of indulgence after years of working from dawn until dusk.

The other thing he wasn't used to was Izumo crawling into bed with him late at night. Kotetsu later told him that Izumo had had nightmares for as long as he could remember and had a hard time sleeping alone. Iruka didn't know why Izumo didn't just crawl in bed with Kotetsu, but he had to admit, it was nice when the nights were cold, to have someone warm in bed with him.

When the change of seasons came and reminded him of home, he was shocked to realise so much time had passed. It made him melancholy. Though he had no real wish to return home, he'd thought something better was coming.

He scoffed at himself for the thought.

I thought something better was coming because of his promises. That didn't go very far.

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