A/N: Personally, I think it's weird that modern Greece and Ancient Greece are split into Heracles and his mom, while Sadiq represents both the Ottoman Empire and Turkey. So, in my headcanon, Sadiq loses a lot of his memories after the Ottoman Empire dies and Turkey is formed.

#13 Conquest

Summary: Greece is free, and the War to End All Wars is over, so why is he still fighting and in pain? Sequel of sorts to "Independence," but can be stand-alone.

Genre: Angst, historical

Rating:T

Warnings: Implied sexual situations, angst (not exactly a happy ending, but a hopeful one)

Word Count: 689

"Athens is the capital of the Kingdom. Constantinople is the great capital, the City, the dream and hope of all Greeks."

"You'll never take us! We will have death or victory!"

Greece thinks that it is ironic, in a dark and twisted way, that the very words he had flung at the Ottoman Empire are now being hurled back at him by a man who carries the old Empire's face. But they are not the same man. At least, not exactly.

This new nation—nameless still and unrecognized, but so full of life and vigor and youthful invincibility—does not know him. He does not know what Greece looks like when he's asleep, does not know what Greece's skin feels like under his palms, the expanse of his back as he keens. This new nation has the Ottoman Empire's face, but none of his history. It makes Greece want to retch, because it isn't fair, because no matter how hard he tries, he will always carry the remembrance of the Ottoman Empire's skin against his. It isn't fair that the other man should be able to escape the weight of his memories.

"Constantinople belongs to us! Greece will have glory once again!"

Greece doesn't know who's shouting, and he doesn't know what they're fighting for anymore. The War to End All Wars is finally over. All he wants is to curl up into a ball and hide, and never, ever have to see his people suffer again. Now they are fighting once more, and this time, they have brought it upon themselves. Greece thinks that humanity must be crazy—masochistic, amnesic, foolish, or hopelessly insane. Heracles isn't so eloquent; Heracles just wants the pain to end.

So they fight. They fight, except this time, everything is reversed, because Greece has no pride in his heart, only foolish dreams of glory, and this new nation is bolstered by the same strength that Greece once had, but now can't ever remember having. They fight, and the Heavens must be laughing at them, because everything is a just a big cosmic joke at the expense of hundreds of thousands of lives, and this time, Greece knows in the deepest, sickest pits of his heart, that God is not on their side.

The war continues feverishly for 3 years, and Greece almost laughs. He almost laughs, and cries, and laughs again, and wonders whether his mother would be proud or ashamed that he is so desperately trying to revive her glory. He fights in her name, and when he is alone at night, he knows that she is weeping.

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

"Amen."

Greece crosses himself and stands. This time, he is not on a battlefield, but in a conference room. There isn't one drop of blood or grime, and somehow the sterility makes everything so much worse. It's over. It's really, really over.

They've lost.

They've lost and the Treaty of Lausanne has just been signed. He has a name now.

The Republic of Turkey.

Turkey follows his diplomats as they leave, all the pride and love and triumph of a nation shining in his eyes. They are across the room from each other, and it might as well be a gulf of centuries. They find each other, for just one brief moment, and Greece realizes he is afraid, because Turkey has no history, and Turkey doesn't know him as anything but the ambitious conqueror who tried to stamp out his freedom. It isn't fair.

Then Turkey's eyes flicker with something like recognition, and something akin to hurt. Maybe, if Greece is wishful, he thinks he might have seen more there as well: betrayal, contempt, wistfulness, and love. Anything but forgiveness.

Then he turns—is gone—and Greece has lost, but it somehow doesn't feel completely like defeat.

Perhaps he shouldn't try to make Turkey remember. Perhaps he should follow the man's example, and try to forget, to build new memories that aren't stained with blood and bitterness. They are nations, after all, and they have all eternity. Heracles' heart still calls out to the Ottoman Empire, but Greece is ready to move forward.

And Heracles will too, in time, because the name 'Turkey' may be unfamiliar, but underneath the nation, he is still just Sadiq.

/end