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

03: like a slave enmeshed

For the first time in nearly a month the Sultan was coming. The order to stand still and not look at the Sultan was still in effect, Iruka was sure, but Kisame seemed more concerned about other things. He stood at the door, whispering with the black-robed and menacing guards. His grin as he looked over the boys was shark-like.

As luck would have it, there was a new addition and he didn't know not to look. What he was doing here, Iruka had no idea. Hayate was sickly and pale and coughed constantly. Iruka wanted to warn him, but he was too far away to communicate in anything other than codes and the boy wouldn't know those yet. It had taken Iruka forever, it seemed, to learn them himself. After two weeks Hayate would probably only get them both in trouble.

Iruka watched from the corner of his eye. His heart thudded and his stomach swam in dull anticipation. He hoped someone would keep Hayate from looking up.

Iruka watched as he looked up. Head lifting as if responding to someone. There was a vague smile on his face.

Suddenly there was screaming, a ragged, gasping cry, and then a dull thud as Hayate passed out and dropped to the floor.

Without thinking, Iruka jumped forward and tried to lift him back up to a standing position. Anything to keep them from sending him to that room. He was too new, it wouldn't be fair. Iruka hadn't been, but he'd heard enough stories to know. Had seen Izumo after he'd had to spend the weekend there: a large room that housed visiting soldiers, the Soldier's Hall was little more than a free for all brothel. The lower classed soldiers were bad enough, but those with a bit of rank were simply cruel and used the opportunity to punish as well as revel in the debauchery the Sultan offered them.

It wasn't fair, but more often than not, being unfair was simply a guarantee of something happening.

A hand tapped Iruka's shoulder, grasping hard. It was a struggle not to look up. "What is this?" asked a deceptively cool and mild voice.

"Helping sir. He's not well." Iruka's belly trembled. He knew whose hand held his shoulder.

A fingertip touched his chin and lifted his face. Now it was a struggle to not look down. He bit back a gasp as he stared into the Sultan's face. The red eyes were terrifying. He'd never seen anything like them; spinning, burning. He felt dizzy, an almost painful vertigo making everything spin and blur around him as something heavy wrapped, snake-like, around his neck. He gasped.

I can't breathe…

The feeling ended with a snap. The finger on his chin moved to his nose, tracing the scar that lined his face, thoughtfully.

"What is your name?" the cool voice asked, completely at odds with the heat of the red eyes.

"I-Iruka, sir," he panted, swallowing convulsively, throat still dry.

"And this?"

"Hayate, sir."

The Sultan nodded. "Very good. Kisame, take Iruka and Hayate. Make sure they learn manners, especially," he said, looking pointedly at Iruka, "Composure."

"No!" Iruka yelled out, then covered his mouth and stared at the floor. Letting Hayate slide away, Iruka dropped to his knees, kneeling before the Sultan, hands on his feet, fingers clutching. "Please sir, he won't make it, he's new, and he's ill. Please don't."

Iruka had no idea what the Sultan was really like. He'd only seen glimpses of him. Those that returned for a night or a weekend outside the seraglio didn't speak of him. He knew the rumours, had heard them before he'd ever seen the palace, but he hoped he could appeal to something gentle in the Sultan's heart. He hoped there was something gentle left in his heart.

"Of course, Iruka."

Iruka glimpsed up, relief flooding him.

The Sultan made a curt nod toward Kisame. "Take Hayate to the infirmary. Take Iruka to the soldiers."

Iruka barely kept a sob from his mouth, clutching the Sultan's shoes. He bit back any more begging.

Why am I so stupid?

Kisame pulled him away, lifting him easily. Iruka stumbled and Kisame jerked him along. He saw two other guards carry Hayate away.

Iruka hoped Hayate survived. If not, his punishment would be completely in vain. Having brought so much sudden attention to himself after six months of no notice, he could only hope his time in the Soldier's Hall would fade the memory of him from the court, but after staring into those terrifying eyes, he had little hope his faux pas would be forgotten so easily.

As Kisame dragged him off to the soldier's hall, he remembered thinking, shortly after his uncle sold him, 'How can it get any worse?'

If only he'd never asked that stupid question.

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