❝i used to rule the world seas would rise when i gave the word❞
Title: Magnificent
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Words: 600~
Characters: Turkey/Sadiq ;; Suleiman the Magnificent
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Summary: hetalia_kink prompt-The hanzi-using Asians get lots of love for their calligraphy, but anon would be quite pleased to see some love for any of the Muslim nations and their calligraphy…focus on Ottoman Turkey and the tugrah. -As Suleiman the Magnificent prepares to take the throne, he has a conversation with his young empire.
Magnificent
“You really need a new one, just for you?” Sadiq’s voice was lackadaisical, aggravated. He released his breath in a huff of air. “What’s wrong with Selim’s old one?”
The prince of the Ottomans looked up at his empire and released a sigh. Scarcely twenty-six years old, the young man was dressed in robes rich with embroidery, silk rapped into a dome-like structure over his head. He sighed.
“My name isn’t Selim, though,” he pointed out blandly. “I can’t sign another’s name to my documents.”
“Why not?” Sadiq wanted to know. “Gupta had a dozen kings, all named Ptolemy. You should just be another Selim-it’d make my life easier. And I won’t have to learn to write another of these things.”
“A sultan’s glory is embodied in his tugrah.” The prince recited loosely, just as his father had told him, years ago. “It lets the rest of the world know of his strength and position once he assumes the throne. You want to compromise your own honor just because you can’t memorize a few lines of script?”
Sadiq scoffed disbelievingly. “I think these things usually end up being more than a few lines of script, Suleiman.”
Suleiman, the prince about to assume the Ottoman throne, the sultan who was not yet magnificent, laughed. Carelessly, he got up from his desk and went to stand beside Sadiq. He grabbed the empire’s hand and held it, palm-up.
“The tuğ comes first,” he murmured, drawing a long, vertical line down Sadiq’s hand with his index finger. He drew two more, continuing, “It is the flagstaff of the tugrah, symbolizing our independence.”
“It’s overly-glorified alif,” Sadiq grumbled, but he didn’t pull away.
Left of where he’d drawn the tuğ, Suleiman traced two sweeping loops. The first was elliptical and wide-“The Mediterranean Sea,” he explained, and then drew a smaller half-circle, “and the Black Sea. The beyze represent the Empire’s area-of-influence.”
“A ha and a sad that got tangled up in one another.” Still not conceding, Sadiq smirked. “What’s so special about this thing, again?”
Ignoring his empire’s comments, Suleiman continued, drawing an “S” shape crossing over the three lines of the tuğ. “The wind blows from east to west, and so the zülfe is drawn in that direction, as well. That is the way we move; that is the way we conquer.”
“I conquer everything,” Sadiq argued. “Not just in one direction.”
With his free hand, Suleiman gripped the scimitar at his waist. He smiled ruefully as he drew sloping lines on the right side of Sadiq’s palm. “The hançer: the sword, the power and might of our empire.”
“The power and might of me.”
“You think you’d get there without someone leading you?” Suleiman laughed. Sadiq grimaced, then turned to move away. Suleiman caught his hand, however, and held tight. “There’s still one last part,” he reminded Sadiq. “Remember what it is?”
“It’s the sere, you ass. You should’ve written that first.”
Grinning, Suleiman scrawled his name across the spot where Sadiq’s palm met his wrist. He did it silkily, endearingly. The tugrah was complete.
“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just take Selim’s name.”
“Tell you what-I’ll give that name to my heir. Happy?”
“No. Lord knows I’m going to be stuck with you for many more decades before your heir comes along.”
*****
The next morning, the day of his coronation, Suleiman awoke to find a piece of folded, yellowing paper on the silken pillow beside him. Curious, he opened it. As he did so, the still-wet ink stained his fingers.
Written there, in perfect, elegant script, was Suleiman’s as-yet-unseen tugrah:
Suleiman through his head back with a laugh. “You and me, Sadiq,” he murmured, “we’re going to rule the world.”
---
Footnotes:
* A tugrah is a calligraphic seal or signature of an Ottoman sultan that was affixed to all official documents and correspondence. It was also carved on his seal and stamped on the coins minted during his reign. It’s various symbolism is explained in the story; each sultan had their own tugrah created at the beginning of their rule.
* Suleiman the Magnificent was the first Ottoman Sultan to bear the name Suleiman. He was the son of Selim I, and his heir was Selim II. He assumed the throne at the age of 26 in 1520, and ruled until his death in 1566.
* Alif, ha, sad-letters in the Arabic alphabet.
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Words: 600~
Characters: Turkey/Sadiq ;; Suleiman the Magnificent
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Summary: hetalia_kink prompt-The hanzi-using Asians get lots of love for their calligraphy, but anon would be quite pleased to see some love for any of the Muslim nations and their calligraphy…focus on Ottoman Turkey and the tugrah. -As Suleiman the Magnificent prepares to take the throne, he has a conversation with his young empire.
Magnificent
“You really need a new one, just for you?” Sadiq’s voice was lackadaisical, aggravated. He released his breath in a huff of air. “What’s wrong with Selim’s old one?”
The prince of the Ottomans looked up at his empire and released a sigh. Scarcely twenty-six years old, the young man was dressed in robes rich with embroidery, silk rapped into a dome-like structure over his head. He sighed.
“My name isn’t Selim, though,” he pointed out blandly. “I can’t sign another’s name to my documents.”
“Why not?” Sadiq wanted to know. “Gupta had a dozen kings, all named Ptolemy. You should just be another Selim-it’d make my life easier. And I won’t have to learn to write another of these things.”
“A sultan’s glory is embodied in his tugrah.” The prince recited loosely, just as his father had told him, years ago. “It lets the rest of the world know of his strength and position once he assumes the throne. You want to compromise your own honor just because you can’t memorize a few lines of script?”
Sadiq scoffed disbelievingly. “I think these things usually end up being more than a few lines of script, Suleiman.”
Suleiman, the prince about to assume the Ottoman throne, the sultan who was not yet magnificent, laughed. Carelessly, he got up from his desk and went to stand beside Sadiq. He grabbed the empire’s hand and held it, palm-up.
“The tuğ comes first,” he murmured, drawing a long, vertical line down Sadiq’s hand with his index finger. He drew two more, continuing, “It is the flagstaff of the tugrah, symbolizing our independence.”
“It’s overly-glorified alif,” Sadiq grumbled, but he didn’t pull away.
Left of where he’d drawn the tuğ, Suleiman traced two sweeping loops. The first was elliptical and wide-“The Mediterranean Sea,” he explained, and then drew a smaller half-circle, “and the Black Sea. The beyze represent the Empire’s area-of-influence.”
“A ha and a sad that got tangled up in one another.” Still not conceding, Sadiq smirked. “What’s so special about this thing, again?”
Ignoring his empire’s comments, Suleiman continued, drawing an “S” shape crossing over the three lines of the tuğ. “The wind blows from east to west, and so the zülfe is drawn in that direction, as well. That is the way we move; that is the way we conquer.”
“I conquer everything,” Sadiq argued. “Not just in one direction.”
With his free hand, Suleiman gripped the scimitar at his waist. He smiled ruefully as he drew sloping lines on the right side of Sadiq’s palm. “The hançer: the sword, the power and might of our empire.”
“The power and might of me.”
“You think you’d get there without someone leading you?” Suleiman laughed. Sadiq grimaced, then turned to move away. Suleiman caught his hand, however, and held tight. “There’s still one last part,” he reminded Sadiq. “Remember what it is?”
“It’s the sere, you ass. You should’ve written that first.”
Grinning, Suleiman scrawled his name across the spot where Sadiq’s palm met his wrist. He did it silkily, endearingly. The tugrah was complete.
“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just take Selim’s name.”
“Tell you what-I’ll give that name to my heir. Happy?”
“No. Lord knows I’m going to be stuck with you for many more decades before your heir comes along.”
*****
The next morning, the day of his coronation, Suleiman awoke to find a piece of folded, yellowing paper on the silken pillow beside him. Curious, he opened it. As he did so, the still-wet ink stained his fingers.
Written there, in perfect, elegant script, was Suleiman’s as-yet-unseen tugrah:
Suleiman through his head back with a laugh. “You and me, Sadiq,” he murmured, “we’re going to rule the world.”
---
Footnotes:
* A tugrah is a calligraphic seal or signature of an Ottoman sultan that was affixed to all official documents and correspondence. It was also carved on his seal and stamped on the coins minted during his reign. It’s various symbolism is explained in the story; each sultan had their own tugrah created at the beginning of their rule.
* Suleiman the Magnificent was the first Ottoman Sultan to bear the name Suleiman. He was the son of Selim I, and his heir was Selim II. He assumed the throne at the age of 26 in 1520, and ruled until his death in 1566.
* Alif, ha, sad-letters in the Arabic alphabet.