Author's Notes: Based on the prompt from hetalia_kink: "TRNC is Turkey's rape child. Could be human AU, genderbent, whatever else Anon wants. I just want some good angst." Warnings for rape, mpreg, and lots of swearing. It is not explicit though (do I need to up the rating?). I'm not quite sure about how this turned out. :/


Strong

For a kid no-one even admits exists, TRNC can be fucking loud.

"Shut up, kid!" he yells, trying to block off the sound of crying with a pillow. Then his fucking conscience comes back, and he drags himself out of bed.

"Hey, hey, shh," he says, gently picking the baby out of his crib and holding him to his chest. "Shh. It's okay, daddy's here."

It doesn't do much good, and really he just makes the crying louder by bringing it closer. He sighs. The kid doesn't need changing; he can see that, so he must need a feed. Turkey groans. He finished off the last of a bottle when feeding the boy before he went to bed; he was too exhausted to bother making another one. Still, he's got the formula. He can manage powder+water=quiet baby.

"Hold on a second, kid." TRNC practically screeches when Turkey lowers him back into the crib, and Turkey covers his ears at the sound. With the noise occupying the better parts of his mind, he gets to think this isn't fair you fucking brat I didn't ask for you; I didn't.


Maybe it's all some kind of karmic punishment for his alcoholism. He was busy getting drunk (or, uh, more drunk) when it happened. He hadn't met the guy before; hadn't spoken a word to him while they were at the bar. He might have overheard the guy breaking up with his girlfriend, or maybe that was someone else. Anyway, Turkey hadn't spoken to anyone. He was moping, that's all. Suddenly he was way drunker than he had any right to be and some guy was talking about how he had to be put to bed, for his own good.

What a fucking joke, right?

He doesn't really remember it hurting. He doesn't really remember it feeling like much of anything at all, which probably has something to do with just how fucking out of it he was (he thinks he was probably drugged, but he hasn't a clue what with). It just sort of happened; he lay there and the guy had his go on the Ottoman Express. He doesn't even think he was all that upset, while it was happening. He didn't get it. Still, he remembers it, vaguely, and he doesn't really know if that's a good thing.

TRNC's still wailing while Turkey walks to the kitchen; he'd have brought the boy with him, but he still hasn't figured out how to do this bottle thing one handed. This shit would be easier if he could just breast feed like normal, weird as that'd look. Hey, if he can give fucking birth, why not?

"Please shut up, I'm doing it now!" he calls to the back room, not that it helps. The kid can't speak yet. Turkey gets the formula out from the cupboard; he knows the mixture by now – three eighths powder, five eighths water, secure lid and shake well. Then open up for consumption. He gets it done quickly, thank god; there's only so much crying he can take.

"I'm coming kid; I'm coming!" He goes back into his son's room. "Hey, hey," he says, picking the boy up again to shush him – which, thank God, actually works this time. "See, I told you I'd only be gone a second."

He raises the nozzle to North Cyprus's mouth. "There ya go, squirt." TRNC immediately gulps it down, which is better than he's had some nights. Sometimes, he has changed the kid and fed the kid and washed the kid and held the kid and whatever else you do with a baby, and he still won't stop crying. He tries not to be bitter when things like that happen. They happen to every parent, he guesses. It's not some grand proof of – it doesn't prove anything.

He loves his kid, of course. TRNC is adorable. But he's tired of the stress, and the confusion. Yeah, he knows; boo-hoo, poor him – all he's going through is all the stuff everyone goes through. He's not special, and he could deal with it all, but after what happened... It's hard. Hard not to treat the kid like the result. Well, physically he is, which would explain it. But Turkey knows it's sure as hell not the baby's fault. He doesn't even think it's his own fault. He thinks it's that bastard rapist's fault, but Turkey has no idea who he even is so it's not that useful.

Anyway, the point is: he's trying to just ignore it all and be a good father. That's what his kid deserves, and on some level, maybe he wants to prove that he can. But it's fucking tiring. It's not fair; he didn't do this to himself, and he shouldn't have to deal with the consequences – he certainly shouldn't have to deal with them alone. Someone should be helping him, dammit. He's trying hard not to be angry and selfish towards the kid, but if there's no-one else to be angry and selfish at it's that much harder.


He had panicked when he woke up and realised what had happened. Human. That guy was just a fucking human.

Turkey didn't have bruises, or marks, or any kind of... evidence, really, on him. He hadn't bled. He'd been cleaned up down below too, probably some time after he finally passed out; the only evidence of what had happened was the come on the sheets. The guy who did this to him was pretty obviously gone; most rapists don't stick around for coffee in the morning. Rape. Seemed like a big word. The kind of word to make him feel vulnerable and scared and... broken. He's never been any good at broken.

He threw up pretty quickly after that. There was plenty of that, through the whole thing – from morning sickness or from good old fashioned misery; his stomach is apparently not that fussy.

He tried to get his clothes on and just leave. He's pretty sure he didn't pay his tab and still owes that hotel a load of money. Not like he's ever going back there again. He's the fucking country, he can get away with it. He must have looked like shit wandering out though; he thinks he got more than a few stares from whoever was there when he left. Probably gossiping about the drunk asshole who went upstairs with... someone or other.

Looking back on it, that kind of makes him laugh. What kind of slut doesn't even know the father of their child's name?


TRNC is quiet now; he's fallen asleep against Turkey's shoulder. Normally, this point would be where Turkey throws himself back into bed to get the two hours possible sleep he can. However, right now he feels kind of wired. He can't sleep. Fuck knows he's gonna regret this in the morning, but he takes TRNC and collapses onto the living room couch.

He stares down at the baby in his arms. So far, he doesn't think he's a very good parent. He never has a goddamn clue what he's doing, and he's prone to yelling at the kid about everything. Of course, the kid has no idea what he's actually saying, but it's the thought that counts. He doesn't even know what's going to happen when TRNC grows up.

He doesn't know what he's going to tell the kid when he asks about where he came from, either. He knows what he tells everyone else. But Greece'll deny it and they'll fight, and TRNC probably won't have a fucking clue. Greece should have helped him when he asked. It's not fair. Maybe the kid'll believe him about Greece, maybe not; maybe TRNC will figure out the truth on his own. God, he hopes not. He's angry enough with himself because he can't get over it, and might wind up making his son feel like shit; he doesn't need that why finishing the job for him.


He tried to forget about it and move on. He wasn't gonna tell; he's never been one for confiding in people and who the fuck would he be confiding in anyway? Better to just ignore it. It's not like he had to face the guy again; it wasn't another nation, or part of his government, or anyone he knew. No problem.

He kept wondering though – that guy was just a human. A human could do that to him? Really? He'd was that far gone? Maybe it doesn't make sense to get so worked up about that. He was drunk, and drugged. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything at all. But it still feels like he's meant to be better than that; being able to impress humans with your insane strength is one of the only good points about being a nation. Something went wrong with him. Maybe he's still the sick man of Europe after all.

It was one of his people, though, who did it. He remembered that. Why would someone do that to their own nation? He had his laws against insulting Turkishness; sure it pissed everyone else off, but it's gotta cover someone doing that...

That whole forgetting about it plan? Didn't work very well.

And you know what happened next. The sickness. The swelling. Et cetera. He was so fucking confused. Despite everything, he was still a man; of all the things he was scared of happening, that was not one of them. He found out more about it, though, and it turned out he wasn't the first. Not among nations anyway; it usually didn't start like this, though. Not that cruelly. And not with a fucking human.

So, the response was blind panic. He had no idea what to do and what to say. He wasn't raising a fucking kid, and he sure as hell wasn't telling anyone what happened to him. But what would he tell them when the baby came? All the doctors told him it was too risky to try getting rid of it, even though they told him it was too risky to be carrying the kid in the first place. Great choice he had there.

He still kind of wonders why he didn't just take the risk and abort it. He doesn't think it was a moral thing – he didn't think of it as his kid at that point, and he was fucking terrified of this thing growing in him and wanted it gone. He considered taking his own measures, like getting someone to punch him in the stomach – that probably would have been more risky when you think about it (where would the thing even come out?). He thinks he might have done it just because, with his empire gone and most of them now hating him, he was tired of being so fucking lonely. There are usually better sources of company than your rape-baby, however.

Really, he guesses keeping it was just easier – keeping the status quo, for awhile. The baby was fucking him up, sure, but if he did anything he'd just fuck it up more.


TRNC wakes up again.

"Crap!" He doesn't know what he did to provoke that, but no time for that now. "Shh, shh, shh; it's okay, kid, please don't cry again..."

TRNC doesn't. He just stares. After a moment, Turkey lets go of his breath.

"Okay. Bit anticlimactic, but nevermind, kid."

He doesn't get much of a response. Turkey sighs.

"I'm sorry 'bout all this, y'know." He pulls North Cyprus in closer. "Didn't mean it to wind up like this for you. Everyone saying you don't exist and shit. Of course you exist, what are they thinking?" He gently runs a finger over his son's nose. He barely remembers what the man looked like, and he's grateful for that. He doesn't wanna have to see the guy every time he looks at his kid. "It's all my fault, really. Turns out most of everyone hates me. Maybe they've got their reasons, but..." he sighs again. "Fuck, you deserve so much better than this."

"You deserve a better dad than me."


The fighting in Cyprus was a godsend. He felt guilty about it, sure, but before long the country was dividing in two and there was some sort of explanation for what was going on.

It made sense for the kid to be Greece's – mostly because they'd actually slept together sort-of recently, even if it was angry and violent and they both just wanted to hurt each other. It probably wasn't fair, to try and trick Greece like that. He felt guilty about that too. But he needed someone to do it; to play the dad who wasn't so terrified of where the damn thing came from he couldn't sleep.

He almost fooled himself into thinking it really was Greece's. Sure, it wouldn't be great given they fucking hated each other, but it'd be better than where it really came from. Most things would be better than that.

It was probably kinda naive to expect Greece to believe him. Or really, care. Still, annoying as he found the brat – he thought Greece was a good person. Better than him. A good enough person not to just abandon his kid.

He thinks the sun is coming up soon. It's not quite five AM and the summer heat's already sweltering; he holds North Cyprus a little looser.

"...So." There isn't much to do at five in the morning with only a baby for company. He still doesn't think he can sleep, but now, he's bored.

He leans back against the couch, pulling TRNC in with him. The kid giggles and snuggles in closer. Turkey smiles. "Thanks kid; least you don't hate me."

He's spending this whole thing pretty much terrified of TRNC hating him someday. That's why he's gotta get over where the kid came from – if he doesn't, the boy will know, and it'll happen 'cause of Tukrey being too angry to put it aside and do the dad thing first. Or maybe TRNC'll hate Turkey for not stopping it. For letting that be the way he came into existence.

Turkey begins to realise being up at five AM makes him paranoid.

Still. North Cyprus's brother – the other Cyprus – hates him. He kind of blames Greece for that one, but kind of not. He doesn't even know. Cyprus came into existence the normal nation way, just sort of popped up out of thin air; they say he's Turkey's kid, or Greece's, or someone's. He's never really understood the whole system. If nothing else, with TRNC he gets the whole relationship.

The two Cypruses haven't even met. He doesn't really think that one's Greece's fault; Cyprus could come if he wanted to. He doesn't want to. Cyprus wishes his little brother didn't exist, he says his little brother doesn't exist; he thinks of the north as a threat, nothing else. Turkey wishes it wasn't all so fucked up. That they didn't have a million different ethnic feuds messing with everything. He kind of wishes he and Greece hadn't hated each other since forever, or that he didn't take the brat over, or something like that – because just maybe, Greece would have fucking listened to him then.


Greece sounded really confused when Turkey showed up at his door, but not as angry as he could have, given the circumstances. Turkey actually thought of this as a good sign. "What do you want?"

He thought about smiling. It'd look fake though. "There's something I gotta tell ya," he said. "Can I come in?"

"...I guess." Greece let him in, and Turkey folded his arms over himself. "It's seven in the morning. For me. Why are you here?"

Turkey rolled his eyes at that. "There's... something I need to talk to you about."

"What?"

He hesitated. C'mon, just say it. You know you gotta. It was a lie. He was trying over Greece's life along with his, just because he got scared of having to do it alone. He also almost saddled himself, again, with someone he fucking hates for maybe-forever (even if he's been chasing after Greece for years). Overall, it probably wasn't a great plan. But he needed it, he needed someone; needed to pretend it all happened some reason other than to break him completely. Because he doesn't do broken.

Doesn't mean he had a clue what to say. Think – Cyprus. "You've heard what's going on with Cyprus, right?"

Greece scowled at him. "That's why your here? To convince me you're in the right; that I should let you just invade?" he asked. "You disgust me. Get out of my house."

"No!" Fuck it, why did Greece always act like that? "Fuck I – look, you remember a few months back, when we..."

Greece looked embarrassed, and turned away from him. "That was a mistake," he says. "You're not going to get some kind of confession out of me, if that's what you're after."

"It's not." Turkey bit down on his lip, feeling sick – the morning sickness was usual, yeah, but this was more than that. Turkey can remember it weirdly clearly – the idea of having to do the whole soul-baring truth thing... with a lie. He did want to tell Greece the truth (see how that worked out). Why? Greece would ignore it. Or think he deserved it. Something like that.

"Look – you've heard about, uh, nation biology being weird... stuff can happen to us that can't happen to humans," he said. "If there's something going on in the world."

Greece narrowed his eyes, and for a second Turkey wondered if he was falling asleep. "What do you mean?"

"Shit." It was a feeling, like remembering exactly what happened; exactly what he wasn't telling Greece – but no, because it wasn't anything like what happened. This time it hurt and he was screaming and crying and pleading. He could remember a face exactly: narrow, pale for one of his, thin. Green eyes. It was completely made up. Maybe that was how his kid'd look?

He was being weak. Greece wouldn't listen to him if he's weak; Greece's always wanted to see him like that. Greece never listens to him anyway, but that time Turkey, the fucking idiot, decided it was worth a go.

"I'm – fuck it – I'm pregnant."

"Get out of here."

"Huh?"

"Get out!"

Greece tried to just shove him out the door and Turkey stepped aside; that couldn't be good for the baby (first time he ever felt protective towards it; even now Turkey still doesn't really know what to make of that). "Greece!"

"What?"

...There wasn't anything to say, really.

"You're lying to me," said Greece.

"You know it's–"

"I know it's possible, but you're still lying to me," he snarled. "You're tricking me. If you can make me feel guilty, give me an obligation – then you can control me again. I'm not your empire anymore, and neither is Cyprus." Turkey can barely comprehend the statement – he's felt pathetic and fragile all this time and Greece is still scared of him. Scared of him in an angry way, but still – he'd be flattered if he didn't need the guy so badly.

"Greece," he said. "That's – it'd be a stupid plan. Believe me, I am not cunning enough to bother with something like that right now."

"So what is it?" Greece asked. "If I actually knocked you up, you wouldn't come to me for help. You probably wouldn't even keep it – I know you; like you'd ever care about anyone other than yourself at all, definitely not a child. The only reason you maybe would – would be to prove a point to me. And crawling to me for help isn't exactly proving a point."

He didn't sound angry anymore. He said all that like a fact – and Turkey suddenly felt guilty, given how he'd been thinking about the kid most of the time. Then he got angry. "You self-righteous brat!" Suddenly he sounded more like, well, him – he didn't sound like a victim here. "I do not care that much about screwing you over, okay? Fine, I'll tell you why: I'm scared. I'm fucking scared because I'm having a kid and someone has to–"

"You're not pregnant," Greece said. "At least, not by me."

"What?"

Greece smirked like he found the whole thing a great joke. Fucking amusing, when I had this thing happen to me and now I have to carry that bastard's baby and I am so scared– "Turkey, we slept together months ago. Almost half a year," he says. "If I got you pregnant, you'd be showing by now."

"I'm a big guy. It takes awhile for it to show."

"Not that long," Greece says. "I don't know what's about to happen. But I know it's not my fault."

"Greece – help me!"

"Why should I?" Greece spat in his face. "I'm not the father. I don't even know what you're thinking – if you are pregnant and convincing yourself it's mine so you can try and take me over again, or if this was a whole plan: if you have a baby, I'm under your control, and that's the only reason you slept with me to begin with. But I don't owe you anything – and, if it even exists, I don't owe that child anything either."

Turkey stared. Please, that's not why I want it to be yours. "Greece – okay, you might have an easier time believing this one," he says. "You're the only person who could have possibly done it, okay?"

"Meaning?"

"Do I have to spell it out? Okay, fine, you're the only guy I've slept with for awhile." Liar. But that didn't count and he'll never let it count. He's such a fucking cliche sometimes.

Greece rolled his eyes. "Which means I lean towards the 'you're making it up' theory. That, or you're hysterical."

Being hysterical was precisely what he was trying to avoid, given just how huge this all was and exactly how much he needed Greece to believe him – even if he was lying. Well, there was a baby and shouldn't someone like Greece find that enough? The kind of guy who loves everything alive... except him. Turkey's fucking special, ain't he?

"What exactly do you think of me?" he says. "Look at me! Do I look like a guy who thinks he can get away with making this shit up?"

There was a pause. Greece pursed his lips. "...I think you're desperate," he says. "I didn't know I was so important."

"This has nothing to do with you!" Turkey punched a wall in frustration. He spun back around to face Greece. "Fine, you wanna know the truth? It's not your kid! I don't even know whose it is, really, because when you're fucking drugged and just this side of consciousness, your hearing gets all fucked up; it's hard to catch a name! Besides, a guy was the one who drugged you in the first place to get exactly where he wound up, isn't the kind to give details in case of an emergency – is this making sense in your fucking brain? Are you happy now? I lied! Fuck it, I lied!"

It was that moment he realised what he'd done. He'd come in determined to hide all that forever – that was pretty much the reason he had to be here in the first place. And now, he'd given that all to Greece – someone who hated him – who could use it however he wanted. If Greece turned against him, it would just be finishing off what that anonymous bastard started. Because he is weak, and pathetic, and is going to have to deal with that alone. This didn't make him any less pathetic, but god knows he'd take help if it was offered – Greece is a Christian, turning the other cheek should be something he just does.

Guess what happened here.

Greece slowly approached him – Turkey stood there, unsure about giving into any emotion. "I don't believe you."

No.

"You said it yourself," he continued calmly. "You lied. You've spent the last fifteen minutes crying wolf." Greece nursed his brow, as if he was disappointed – Turkey knows Greece has never had enough faith in him to be disappointed. "What kind of last resort is that? Make yourself into a rape victim, so you're off limits? I don't know if I'm even disgusted any more, or if I just... pity you."

Pity. Did he go there to be pitied? To this day, Turkey doesn't know. He wanted help. He wanted someone to fix him, after it all. At the time, he couldn't feel anything. It had been knocked out of him. Fuck knows his emotions were all over the place through it all.

Greece sighed. "You better leave," he said. "You get your troops out of Cyprus's house. You have no right to do that."

Turkey couldn't say anything. Now he thinks he should have fought more. But he was just... exhausted.

On his way out the door, Greece stopped him. "Turkey."

Slowly, he lay a hand on Turkey's stomach. He held his breath. Kid – both of you – help me out here.

It took a moment, but he felt it – one of the many things he'd hated since this had begun. It wasn't fair, but whenever he felt the baby it was like he was still being attacked. Stupid, but another one of those little reminders of how he'd wound up this way to begin with. But now... kick.

Greece noticed. He knew, he knows Greece noticed. Greece looked up into his eyes.

"I didn't feel anything."

He drew his hand back. Without another word, Turkey left.


He basically hid for the rest of the pregnancy. Whether Greece believed him about any of it once he showed up with the fucking baby – he hasn't asked. Greece will never acknowledge the kid as long as he lives, anyway, so clearly he still hasn't earned the sympathy he was looking for.

He stands up and takes North Cyprus to a big window facing the horizon. The sun is rising. "Hey kid, look at that." He manages to point with one finger, while keeping grasp of his son. "Ain't that pretty?"

The boy stares, enchanted by the lights and colours. It's so vomit-worthy cute that Turkey has to smile.

He wonders if it's enough. After awhile, he'll love the kid so much he'll just forget it all. He guesses it'd be a good thing. God knows he doesn't like thinking about where his kid came from.

It shouldn't have happened, that's the thing. It was just some bastard human who did this to him; some maniac who thought he had the right to do whatever he liked with whoever he liked. Turkey happened to get in the way of that. That's not how it works; if there's one thing being a nation is about, it's about power. He's the Ottoman Empire; whatever happened to his power?

He's not exactly a kid himself. He wasn't naive before all this happened. He'd been knocked about over the years; he was even a bit too familiar with what happened to him, though indirectly. It happened to his women, to his men, and even if he barely noticed it most of the time...

Still, what happened to him, directly... matters. He wasn't broken enough before all this, that it'd be just another day in the life.

He remembers something Greece's mother said – before she died. She hated him, and she feared him, but she – she had contempt about it. Because he was so young, and she was the fucking birthplace of Western civilisation. When she realised he could hurt her... It's not fair. Why can you do this to me?

TRNC giggles some more. Turkey sighs. He doesn't know why it fucking happened, really. He officially gives up.


He didn't have a clue what he was going to do about giving birth. He didn't want to talk to anyone about it; the doctors he knew were all terrified of the mutant country-baby, and talking to nations... no. Not after what happened with Greece.

Poland, of all people, wound up finding out. He decided to help. God only knows why; apparently, he felt like he owed Turkey one after the centuries where he wasn't even meant to exist anymore, and Turkey was the only one who wouldn't accept it. Turkey didn't think he'd bother if he was in Poland's position (and god knows Poland still had that shit to deal with), but hey, he was grateful. Didn't get any questions asked either – which was weird, from Poland. Having your baby delivered by a sort-of communist in a miniskirt is bizarre, but hey, he survived it.

It hurt. He got cut in half and it had to be pulled out; he screamed in pain and tried not to die. He'd spent so long terrified of this thing growing in him, and now the stems were cut and it was yanked out, and he doesn't even know how to fucking describe it.

Once it was over, he was all sowed up and started coming around, and he found Poland holding his baby and cooing.

"Oh hey, you're awake!" he said. "It's a boy. And he is totally cute."

"...Thanks?" A boy. He always thought of the baby as an it. Another cliche, but... if it had an actual sex, yeah, it seemed more real.

"You wanna hold him?" Turkey sits up a little, wincing at the stitching. "Yeah, be careful there. Do not wanna have to sow that up again."

Turkey rolls his eyes and Poland passes the baby to him.

Poland might have overstated the cuteness factor; the baby's all red and wrinkled and shriveled. Apparently, that's how newborns look. Turkey stares – it's his son, and he can see it. He can't see a thing of the man who did this to him, and yes he hasn't a clue what that man even looked like. But he won't be remembering it anytime soon, which means he can just ignore if the baby does look like him. And maybe that's how this is gonna work. Based of good old-fashioned making things up. This is his son, after all.

"Turkey? Hellooo?"

"Huh?" he looks up again. "Oh... what?"

"Just checking you're still okay," says Poland. "You've been weird and stuff since I showed up."

Some part of him is angry again. Well of fucking course I'm 'weird'; do you have a clue– but that's the whole problem. He doesn't have a clue; no-one does except for Greece, and he won't accept it, and Turkey ain't giving them out anymore. It's done. He's gotta live with it now.

"I just gave birth, what exactly were ya expecting?"

"...Yeah, good point." Poland nods. "Anyway – do you think he's...?"

"What?"

"You know. One of us."

"Yes," he says flatly. "He's the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus."

"Wait – what?" says Poland. "You mean that thing that's been going on in normal Cyprus, since – that's... dude, no-one is going to listen to you 'bout that. I'm not gonna listen to you about that. La la la la la."

"Fine," he says. "I'll figure it out."

"...You're all bitter and shit now, aren't you?"

He sighs. Course I am, but it's nothing to do with you.

Poland purses his lips. "Still. He's very cute."


He stands at the window a few more seconds, before he walks off. He takes TRNC to the kitchen, and stares at the clock.

"Nnh. I should put you to bed," he says. "I have to take a shower and stuff too, eventually."

The entirety of the Turkish government now makes fun of him for his constantly sleep-deprived state. A lot of them get it. Kids, huh?

He loves the boy, though. God knows he loves his kid so much. He's a mess and he knows he's a mess, and he can't think of a damn thing he can do to fix it all. But he wants it to be better for the kid. Everything he's worrying about... he does it because he wants his child to be happy. That's a good thing, right?

He walks TRNC back to his room, but the second he puts the boy down he starts crying again. "Holy..." he rolls his eyes and picks the kid up. "Hey, hey. It's okay. I just have to go have a life, mm'kay kid?"

The baby wails in his ear and it hurts. Underneath, part of him still says it's not fair, I didn't do anything and I'm not responsible for you, fucking kid...

But he ignores and holds his son until he stops crying.

Because more than anything, Turkey wants to be a good dad.