Here goes my first Greece/Turkey fic that doesn't have Egypt in it. I know. I'm impressed too.

This fic was written as a birthday gift for my friend on livejournal, absynthess.

disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

and the sea whispered to me

"do you think we're greater than gods?"

heracles is sitting amidst his mother's ruins, shades of beige and brown and white on his body camouflaging so well with his aged surroundings that he looked like ruin himself.

sadiq pauses, sitting beside him. he thinks of calligraphy, of brushes gliding, forming iayahs/i. he thinks of calls to prayer, of people prostrating, rich beside poor.

he thinks of pushing it all away; secularizing. of the symbol on his flag and how easy to was to reject what it stood for.

then he's looking around and thinking of the stories of his ancestor; the mother he never truly had. he understands what heracles means.

but, he's not about to make things easy.

"why do you ask?"

"where's zeus?"

sadiq gives a wry laugh.

"just a story."

"and the god of today?"

"what, are you feeling blasphemous?"

heracles hums.

"man, i hate it when you get like this."

"no one's asked you to stay."

"i stay because i know you love it."

heracles snorts, and sadiq shakes his head.

"we're not greater than gods."


"people herald gods as creators, and fear their powers to destroy. we don't have that kind of power, or any kind. we're doomed to eternally living the whims of our people."

"but gods have to live for the people's whims, too."

"not zeus."

"no, not zeus," heracles repeats. "maybe that's why he's dead."

then there was a silence. a comfortable silence. sadiq wondered if they were having a moment, perhaps. and then he realized they were, and wanted to go about ending it-

"for someone whose name is sadiq, you're not very friendly."

"for someone named heracles, you're not very great."

"why'd you come here?"

"bothering greeks is a national pastime."

"you have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"don't you?"

"i learned from the best-"

"-i'm flattered-"

"-my mother."

"a beautiful woman, she was. too bad you didn't inherit any of it."

"is sex all you think about?"

"i'm not you."

another silence fell upon the two men; sadiq sighed, his shoulders slumping, and looked at heracles from the corner of his eye.

"i lied. maybe you did get some of it."

"are you asking me out?"

"not asking."

"in that case, i decline."

"no, you don't."

heracles looks up, is puzzled by the sight of sadiq without his mask, and replies curtly,

"i guess i don't."


thank you for reading