Categories > Original > Romance > Princes' Island
Princes' Island (Part 2 of 2)
During the Ottoman Empire, tradition and custom bind two feuding royal brothers then tear them apart. Will circumstance forever thwart their happiness or will they manage to outwit it?
?Blocked
Princes' Island (Part 2 of 2)
The sea was calm and placid and the day, bright and cloudless. On this day, Prince Tsubasak was leaving the island. Finally, after three long years, he was going home, home to Dolmabahce Palace. But looking back at the island, it suddenly dawned upon him that it was his home that he was leaving. He was leaving behind the bonds he had formed with his younger brothers; his evening habit of joining his elderly and senile royal uncles in the feeding of the fishes with pearls and gems; and the love of his life - his younger brother and lover, Prince Takkik.
In Dolmabahce Palace, there would not be a fig tree that he had declared his own, no younger brothers he could hunt with, and no lover to warm his bed and his heart. The palace was a place of distant and vague memory, an almost unknown and alien territory that he had no map for.
The vizier accompanying him was, however, beaming. With all the cheerfulness of the sun blazing in an unclouded sky, he remarked, 'This fair-weathered journey is an auspicious sign, Your Imperial Highness. May your reign be long and fruitful.'
'Fruitful?'
'Of course, heirs. Heirs that rival the number of stars in the sky.'
Prince Tsubasak gulped inwardly. Not only did he have long, boring state affairs to look forward to during the day, he had dislocated and impersonal sex to contend with at night.
The only consolation in his desperate, almost hopeless situation was the company of his mother and sister. At the Gate of Felicity where he officiated the burial of his elder brother, his watery gaze was almost fixated on them. They were now his anchor in a faceless crowd of subjects, people who were suspicious of him, who despised him or who plainly wished him dead. His brother's reign lasted only three years, he wondered how long his would be.
Court life, Sultan Tsubasak soon discovered, was more hectic than he could possibly imagine. There were morning court assembly and meetings, ettiqueque lessons, and entertaining of foreign ambassadors, etc. In addition, there were martial arts lessons arranged by his Queen Mother. She didn't scheme long and hard for her son's sultanate, only to have him easily assassinated. Now that he was sultan, she would have to labour even harder to protect him and his position.
Although less fearful of assassination attempts, Tsubasak had on numerous occasions jolted awake from his sleep, not because there was someone there. But because there wasn't any. His bed now empty of Takkik, seemed even larger than before, and much colder. It was on nights like this he was overtaken with a vicious desire for escape, escape from mounting expectations and the overwhelming guilt of unfulfilled promises. He had promised Takkik that he would free him from the island. Together, they would explore the wide expanse of their homeland. Hand in hand, they would laugh down lonely valleys from The Acropolis, ride across the landscape of fairy chimneys in Cappadocia, and get lost in the underground city of Kaymakli. Increasingly, they were becoming empty promises and hollow words, as he struggled to earn the respect of his viziers who only regarded him as a puppet to his mother's wishes.
On this issue, the Queen Mother was of little help. Upon learning of her son's sleepless nights, she promptly ordered for him to be served every night. Nights spent despondently dreaming of Takkik was in no time replaced with mindless, ardourless sex. To ease his guilt, Tsubasak convinced himself that with an heir he might be able to persuade his mother and the court to break from tradition and allow the release of his royal brothers. But while his guilt lessened, his self-loathing only increased.
'Is something troubling you?' Tsubasak's elder sister asked one day, after their afternoon prayer.
'I think I'm unhappy,' Tsubasak replied, after a long pause.
'Unhappy? The palace is not the place to find happiness,' she quipped. With a tight smile, she continued, 'I think the operative word here is "power". When you're powerful, you don't need happiness.'
Behind her wry remarks, Tsubasak could sense masked self-pity and resignation; after all, she was soon to enter into a loveless marriage of diplomacy with a powerful but elderly neighbouring prince. With her gone, his days would be even longer and lonelier.
……..
Perhaps because his despair was painfully obvious, it didn’t come as a rude shock to anyone in the palace, except for the oblivious Queen Mother, when the discovery was made. One day, the Sultan’s clothes and shoes were found abandoned on the shore of Bosphorus Sea.
.........
Prince Takkik almost cried. He had prided himself on not shedding tears, not even the manly ones. When the princes learnt years ago that they were to be exiled, many cried. But not Takkik. He stood stoic, his steely gaze imperturbable, immovable as a rock. Nevertheless, the current news awashed him with immense relief, as if the boulder in his heart had been instantaneously removed. He had been requested to make a trip to Dolmabahce Palace. The long, arduous wait was finally over.
But his brows soon furrowed. With sudden alarm, he reproached himself inaudibly, 'How am I going to face Tsubasak? It's his 17th birthday and I don't even know if I could do him 10 times.'
The messenger, confused by the mixed signals registering on the prince’s face, took it upon himself to repeat the grave news. Prince Takkik had to immediately leave for the Palace. Because Sultan Tsubasak had passed on. Apparently, Takkik had earlier only registered the first portion of the message.
It was fair sea and sky that greeted Prince Takkik as he journeyed towards his glorious destiny. But he would rather die cold and alone than receive this glory, bestowed at the expense of the life of a cherished love. This time, the vizier was wise enough to keep silent as he accompanied the reluctant would-be Sultan. But he was honestly blameless, how could he have known that former Sultan Tsubasak's reign would be so tragically short and end in suicide? It was believed that the former Sultan had drowned himself in Bosphorus Sea. Although no body was recovered, his abandoned clothes and shoes were tell-tale signs. And the suicide note only confirmed what many had long suspected - the Sultan was troubled.
Sultan Takkik adapted to palace life much like Tsubasak did, with much difficulty. But he was determined to survive, to live well, as a revenge for his brother and lover, who had caved in under the pressure. Thankfully, his mother was less meddlesome of the state affairs. Couple that with willful stubbornness, Takkik was able to slowly influence the court. It was also this stubbornness that kept the pestering of him to produce an heir at bay. He had insisted on mourning Tsubasak for at least a year.
As remembrance of him, Takkik regularly visited the former Queen Mother, who since her son's early demise, had went mad with grief and guilt.
'This is me?' Tsubasak's mother asked softly as she meditatively fingered a portrait of herself. She looked much younger in it because it was painted by Tsubasak when he was 13. In his haste to leave for the palace, he had left behind many belongings on the island, all of which Takkik carefully shipped over to the palace.
'Yes. Tsubasak is, I mean, was an accomplished artist, musican and poet, as talented as he is, was beautiful.'
During his many visits to her, Takkik would recite Tsubasak's flowery poems to her and watch her wept. These visits never fail to fill him with implicit sadness. But the only thing more painful to remember was to forget. If he were to forget, there would be nothing left, nothing but emptiness.
After a year of mourning, Sultan Takkik could no longer put off his Queen Mother's grand designs for his harem. Finally, he declared that breaking from custom, he would abolish the harem system. Instead, he chose to marry, and if necessary, take on no more than a handful of personally handpicked concubines. But burying himself in all matters of the state, down to the minute details of apricot and fig production, he had never once bothered with the seductive charms of any women, with one exception. It was a personal recommendation by a trusted vizier, the same one who had accompanied him and Tsubasak into the palace. It was on this occasion he regretted raising the lowly vizier so quickly up the ranks that it now made it hard for him to refuse his fervent pleas. The vizier had claimed that he had found an exquisite beauty that would no doubt knock the wind out of the sultan.
Fidgeting on his large throne in the audience hall , Sultan Takkik was impatient to receive the recommended beauty. He couldn’t wait to quickly dismiss her as one whom only a blind mother could love. Then he would relish demoting the vizier by a rank or two, and return to the pressing issue of wheat production.
Outside the hall, he could hear the torrent of rain relentlessly pounding on the roof and marble steps. In the raucous, he slowly found himself lost in a trance. It was then he was unexpectedly reminded of a memory from the island. He had just kissed Tsubasak the day before. And the next day, the bashful fellow cited rain as an excuse and hid in the room to avoid him. But he barged in and on that day, they had sex for the very first time.
Alas, before he could delve further into the delicious reverie, he was interrupted by the presence of a head-bowed, carefully dolled-up figure, escorted in by two armed guards on both sides. The figure was clad in a light pink silk Japanese kimono, patterned with sakuras that had been embroidered with gold and silver threads. He instantly knew it was a kimono because Tsubasak was Japanese and had introduced him to his culture. Already, Takkik thought the elaborate costume was a mistake. It could easily make anyone wearing it pale in comparison. By now, the figure was in front of him, about to kneel and kiss the hem of his kaftan.
Feeling a pang of benevolence, Takki instructed through his vizier, 'Tell her to dispense with ceremony. She need only raise her head.'
Those were the last words that Sultan Takkik spoke that day. He stared dumbstruck at the Japanese beauty for a while, then staggered to his private chambers.
.........
'I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you....' Takkik earnestly whispered into the ear of the Japanese beauty as he furtively slid into her bed that night and enfolded her a litte too tightly in his arms.
'I get the message,' the beauty shyly informed.
'I thought I've lost you. I thought I've lost you forever,' Takkik squeaked, his voice breaking. ‘I thought I'll never have a chance to say it, that you'll never know that I love you. Can I keep saying it, all night long?' Takkik pleaded.
It's been so long since Tsubasak had heard Takkik's deep, earthy voice that he nodded his ardent approval immediately. In between countless hoarse love declarations and wanton kisses, they frantically reignited their long-extinguished bonfire of passion, lust and desire.
Waking up once again entangled in Tsubasak, Takkik was beside himself. Once again, he could feel his heart. And it swelled with incredible tenderness, a tenderness that he was certain was forever lost when he leant of Tsubasak's death. But Tsubasak had come back, back to him, albeit in disguise and very long hair. He almost berated himself for wanting to hurt him, hit him, punch him and even strangle the living daylights out of him. Tsubasak had hurt him so much. He didn't just break his heart, he killed him. There was a time when he felt that the world, the palace and its protocols could no longer hurt him because he was already dead. But Tsubasak was back, and so was he.
Tsubasak knew that he had taken a huge gamble. It was not certain that they could be together even after he had feigned death and left the palace. Even if he could successfully escape recognition and gain an audience with Sultan Takkik, the latter might not forgive him. Still, he was glad that Takkik had changed little. Back on the island, even if he was in the wrong, it was always Takkik who would creep into his bed at night and hug him to sleep. Ultimately, when it came to him, Takkik always forgave.
.............
'Wow! I can hardly recognise it. It's so big now. I think it can hardly recognise me too.'
'What's so hard to recognise about you?' Sultan Takkik asked, baffled.
'I'm all old and grey now.' Tsubasak answered, a little embarrassed.
'Old? I don't think so,' Takkik protested.
'That's because you still think of me as that 13 year-old boy you molested under this very tree.'
'Molest?! I was nursing your injuries. Besides, I didn't hear you complain.'
Sometimes, Takkik hated Tsubasak. The latter knew him too well. It was true that he had put his lover on a pedestal untouched by time. But much had changed around them. Takkik had taken on a wife, the daughter of the trusted vizier, who had been in love with him since their childhood when he rescued her down from a tree. Although she was only a wife in name, she dutifully produced two fine-looking heirs, Prince Yamapid and Prince Ryod. Upon Prince Yamapid's succession to the throne, Takkik invited his brothers to the ceremony and released them from their bondage. Prince Jind and Prince Kamed chose to retire to a foreign country, Prince Junno was appointed counsellor to the Ministry of International Relations, and Prince Kokid, the Ministry of Home Affairs, Prince Ueda sat in the Committee for Religious Tolerance, and Prince Maru was Head of the Palace Eunuchs.
After Prince Yamapi's succession, Takkik and Tsubasak returned to the desolate Princes' Island. Taking with them a handful of faithful servants, they slowly settled into retirement on the infamous island.
'I would've objected if I wasn't so stunned.'
'Okay, okay, I'll give you another chance at defending your honour.'
'Wait, what are you doing?'
'You.'
'But we're not kids anymore.'
'Yeah, I can tell. It's bigger,' Takkik answered as he pulled Tsubasak's trousers down and shamelessly groped his still manly manhood in the open.
Seeing Tsubasak's closed eyes, parted lips and feeling him rhythmatically thrust himself against his hand, Takkik knew that he wouldn't be expecting any more resistance. At this point, he too exposed himself.
'Know what? I've always wanted to try outdoor sex....'
More stories at http://avery-averette.livejournal.com/tag/fanfictions. Enjoy!
The sea was calm and placid and the day, bright and cloudless. On this day, Prince Tsubasak was leaving the island. Finally, after three long years, he was going home, home to Dolmabahce Palace. But looking back at the island, it suddenly dawned upon him that it was his home that he was leaving. He was leaving behind the bonds he had formed with his younger brothers; his evening habit of joining his elderly and senile royal uncles in the feeding of the fishes with pearls and gems; and the love of his life - his younger brother and lover, Prince Takkik.
In Dolmabahce Palace, there would not be a fig tree that he had declared his own, no younger brothers he could hunt with, and no lover to warm his bed and his heart. The palace was a place of distant and vague memory, an almost unknown and alien territory that he had no map for.
The vizier accompanying him was, however, beaming. With all the cheerfulness of the sun blazing in an unclouded sky, he remarked, 'This fair-weathered journey is an auspicious sign, Your Imperial Highness. May your reign be long and fruitful.'
'Fruitful?'
'Of course, heirs. Heirs that rival the number of stars in the sky.'
Prince Tsubasak gulped inwardly. Not only did he have long, boring state affairs to look forward to during the day, he had dislocated and impersonal sex to contend with at night.
The only consolation in his desperate, almost hopeless situation was the company of his mother and sister. At the Gate of Felicity where he officiated the burial of his elder brother, his watery gaze was almost fixated on them. They were now his anchor in a faceless crowd of subjects, people who were suspicious of him, who despised him or who plainly wished him dead. His brother's reign lasted only three years, he wondered how long his would be.
Court life, Sultan Tsubasak soon discovered, was more hectic than he could possibly imagine. There were morning court assembly and meetings, ettiqueque lessons, and entertaining of foreign ambassadors, etc. In addition, there were martial arts lessons arranged by his Queen Mother. She didn't scheme long and hard for her son's sultanate, only to have him easily assassinated. Now that he was sultan, she would have to labour even harder to protect him and his position.
Although less fearful of assassination attempts, Tsubasak had on numerous occasions jolted awake from his sleep, not because there was someone there. But because there wasn't any. His bed now empty of Takkik, seemed even larger than before, and much colder. It was on nights like this he was overtaken with a vicious desire for escape, escape from mounting expectations and the overwhelming guilt of unfulfilled promises. He had promised Takkik that he would free him from the island. Together, they would explore the wide expanse of their homeland. Hand in hand, they would laugh down lonely valleys from The Acropolis, ride across the landscape of fairy chimneys in Cappadocia, and get lost in the underground city of Kaymakli. Increasingly, they were becoming empty promises and hollow words, as he struggled to earn the respect of his viziers who only regarded him as a puppet to his mother's wishes.
On this issue, the Queen Mother was of little help. Upon learning of her son's sleepless nights, she promptly ordered for him to be served every night. Nights spent despondently dreaming of Takkik was in no time replaced with mindless, ardourless sex. To ease his guilt, Tsubasak convinced himself that with an heir he might be able to persuade his mother and the court to break from tradition and allow the release of his royal brothers. But while his guilt lessened, his self-loathing only increased.
'Is something troubling you?' Tsubasak's elder sister asked one day, after their afternoon prayer.
'I think I'm unhappy,' Tsubasak replied, after a long pause.
'Unhappy? The palace is not the place to find happiness,' she quipped. With a tight smile, she continued, 'I think the operative word here is "power". When you're powerful, you don't need happiness.'
Behind her wry remarks, Tsubasak could sense masked self-pity and resignation; after all, she was soon to enter into a loveless marriage of diplomacy with a powerful but elderly neighbouring prince. With her gone, his days would be even longer and lonelier.
……..
Perhaps because his despair was painfully obvious, it didn’t come as a rude shock to anyone in the palace, except for the oblivious Queen Mother, when the discovery was made. One day, the Sultan’s clothes and shoes were found abandoned on the shore of Bosphorus Sea.
.........
Prince Takkik almost cried. He had prided himself on not shedding tears, not even the manly ones. When the princes learnt years ago that they were to be exiled, many cried. But not Takkik. He stood stoic, his steely gaze imperturbable, immovable as a rock. Nevertheless, the current news awashed him with immense relief, as if the boulder in his heart had been instantaneously removed. He had been requested to make a trip to Dolmabahce Palace. The long, arduous wait was finally over.
But his brows soon furrowed. With sudden alarm, he reproached himself inaudibly, 'How am I going to face Tsubasak? It's his 17th birthday and I don't even know if I could do him 10 times.'
The messenger, confused by the mixed signals registering on the prince’s face, took it upon himself to repeat the grave news. Prince Takkik had to immediately leave for the Palace. Because Sultan Tsubasak had passed on. Apparently, Takkik had earlier only registered the first portion of the message.
It was fair sea and sky that greeted Prince Takkik as he journeyed towards his glorious destiny. But he would rather die cold and alone than receive this glory, bestowed at the expense of the life of a cherished love. This time, the vizier was wise enough to keep silent as he accompanied the reluctant would-be Sultan. But he was honestly blameless, how could he have known that former Sultan Tsubasak's reign would be so tragically short and end in suicide? It was believed that the former Sultan had drowned himself in Bosphorus Sea. Although no body was recovered, his abandoned clothes and shoes were tell-tale signs. And the suicide note only confirmed what many had long suspected - the Sultan was troubled.
Sultan Takkik adapted to palace life much like Tsubasak did, with much difficulty. But he was determined to survive, to live well, as a revenge for his brother and lover, who had caved in under the pressure. Thankfully, his mother was less meddlesome of the state affairs. Couple that with willful stubbornness, Takkik was able to slowly influence the court. It was also this stubbornness that kept the pestering of him to produce an heir at bay. He had insisted on mourning Tsubasak for at least a year.
As remembrance of him, Takkik regularly visited the former Queen Mother, who since her son's early demise, had went mad with grief and guilt.
'This is me?' Tsubasak's mother asked softly as she meditatively fingered a portrait of herself. She looked much younger in it because it was painted by Tsubasak when he was 13. In his haste to leave for the palace, he had left behind many belongings on the island, all of which Takkik carefully shipped over to the palace.
'Yes. Tsubasak is, I mean, was an accomplished artist, musican and poet, as talented as he is, was beautiful.'
During his many visits to her, Takkik would recite Tsubasak's flowery poems to her and watch her wept. These visits never fail to fill him with implicit sadness. But the only thing more painful to remember was to forget. If he were to forget, there would be nothing left, nothing but emptiness.
After a year of mourning, Sultan Takkik could no longer put off his Queen Mother's grand designs for his harem. Finally, he declared that breaking from custom, he would abolish the harem system. Instead, he chose to marry, and if necessary, take on no more than a handful of personally handpicked concubines. But burying himself in all matters of the state, down to the minute details of apricot and fig production, he had never once bothered with the seductive charms of any women, with one exception. It was a personal recommendation by a trusted vizier, the same one who had accompanied him and Tsubasak into the palace. It was on this occasion he regretted raising the lowly vizier so quickly up the ranks that it now made it hard for him to refuse his fervent pleas. The vizier had claimed that he had found an exquisite beauty that would no doubt knock the wind out of the sultan.
Fidgeting on his large throne in the audience hall , Sultan Takkik was impatient to receive the recommended beauty. He couldn’t wait to quickly dismiss her as one whom only a blind mother could love. Then he would relish demoting the vizier by a rank or two, and return to the pressing issue of wheat production.
Outside the hall, he could hear the torrent of rain relentlessly pounding on the roof and marble steps. In the raucous, he slowly found himself lost in a trance. It was then he was unexpectedly reminded of a memory from the island. He had just kissed Tsubasak the day before. And the next day, the bashful fellow cited rain as an excuse and hid in the room to avoid him. But he barged in and on that day, they had sex for the very first time.
Alas, before he could delve further into the delicious reverie, he was interrupted by the presence of a head-bowed, carefully dolled-up figure, escorted in by two armed guards on both sides. The figure was clad in a light pink silk Japanese kimono, patterned with sakuras that had been embroidered with gold and silver threads. He instantly knew it was a kimono because Tsubasak was Japanese and had introduced him to his culture. Already, Takkik thought the elaborate costume was a mistake. It could easily make anyone wearing it pale in comparison. By now, the figure was in front of him, about to kneel and kiss the hem of his kaftan.
Feeling a pang of benevolence, Takki instructed through his vizier, 'Tell her to dispense with ceremony. She need only raise her head.'
Those were the last words that Sultan Takkik spoke that day. He stared dumbstruck at the Japanese beauty for a while, then staggered to his private chambers.
.........
'I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you....' Takkik earnestly whispered into the ear of the Japanese beauty as he furtively slid into her bed that night and enfolded her a litte too tightly in his arms.
'I get the message,' the beauty shyly informed.
'I thought I've lost you. I thought I've lost you forever,' Takkik squeaked, his voice breaking. ‘I thought I'll never have a chance to say it, that you'll never know that I love you. Can I keep saying it, all night long?' Takkik pleaded.
It's been so long since Tsubasak had heard Takkik's deep, earthy voice that he nodded his ardent approval immediately. In between countless hoarse love declarations and wanton kisses, they frantically reignited their long-extinguished bonfire of passion, lust and desire.
Waking up once again entangled in Tsubasak, Takkik was beside himself. Once again, he could feel his heart. And it swelled with incredible tenderness, a tenderness that he was certain was forever lost when he leant of Tsubasak's death. But Tsubasak had come back, back to him, albeit in disguise and very long hair. He almost berated himself for wanting to hurt him, hit him, punch him and even strangle the living daylights out of him. Tsubasak had hurt him so much. He didn't just break his heart, he killed him. There was a time when he felt that the world, the palace and its protocols could no longer hurt him because he was already dead. But Tsubasak was back, and so was he.
Tsubasak knew that he had taken a huge gamble. It was not certain that they could be together even after he had feigned death and left the palace. Even if he could successfully escape recognition and gain an audience with Sultan Takkik, the latter might not forgive him. Still, he was glad that Takkik had changed little. Back on the island, even if he was in the wrong, it was always Takkik who would creep into his bed at night and hug him to sleep. Ultimately, when it came to him, Takkik always forgave.
.............
'Wow! I can hardly recognise it. It's so big now. I think it can hardly recognise me too.'
'What's so hard to recognise about you?' Sultan Takkik asked, baffled.
'I'm all old and grey now.' Tsubasak answered, a little embarrassed.
'Old? I don't think so,' Takkik protested.
'That's because you still think of me as that 13 year-old boy you molested under this very tree.'
'Molest?! I was nursing your injuries. Besides, I didn't hear you complain.'
Sometimes, Takkik hated Tsubasak. The latter knew him too well. It was true that he had put his lover on a pedestal untouched by time. But much had changed around them. Takkik had taken on a wife, the daughter of the trusted vizier, who had been in love with him since their childhood when he rescued her down from a tree. Although she was only a wife in name, she dutifully produced two fine-looking heirs, Prince Yamapid and Prince Ryod. Upon Prince Yamapid's succession to the throne, Takkik invited his brothers to the ceremony and released them from their bondage. Prince Jind and Prince Kamed chose to retire to a foreign country, Prince Junno was appointed counsellor to the Ministry of International Relations, and Prince Kokid, the Ministry of Home Affairs, Prince Ueda sat in the Committee for Religious Tolerance, and Prince Maru was Head of the Palace Eunuchs.
After Prince Yamapi's succession, Takkik and Tsubasak returned to the desolate Princes' Island. Taking with them a handful of faithful servants, they slowly settled into retirement on the infamous island.
'I would've objected if I wasn't so stunned.'
'Okay, okay, I'll give you another chance at defending your honour.'
'Wait, what are you doing?'
'You.'
'But we're not kids anymore.'
'Yeah, I can tell. It's bigger,' Takkik answered as he pulled Tsubasak's trousers down and shamelessly groped his still manly manhood in the open.
Seeing Tsubasak's closed eyes, parted lips and feeling him rhythmatically thrust himself against his hand, Takkik knew that he wouldn't be expecting any more resistance. At this point, he too exposed himself.
'Know what? I've always wanted to try outdoor sex....'
More stories at http://avery-averette.livejournal.com/tag/fanfictions. Enjoy!
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