The Fortified City of Arinna
Sacred City of the Forge-God Ḫašamili and the Sun Goddess Arinniti
Capital of the Hatti
The Home of Tašmišu, Chieftain of the Hatti
1329 B.C.
“I can’t believe it! Prince Mursili and Princess Asmu-Nikal, coming to stay with us!” the voice of a young woman squealed in delight, the sound echoing through the sun-drenched halls. Giggles followed in it’s wake as Harapšeki and Ḫarapšili -better known as Sheki and Shili-, the twin daughters of Tašmišu, Chieftain of the Hatti and High Priest of Ḫašamili, sat together on the floor of their bedroom.
“I know! Twins, like us, and blonde like us!” chirped the other with equal glee, clapping her hands together. “And Father said that they specifically wanted to come here, to stay with us, for their coming-of-age!”
"And we get to host them for a whole month, maybe two!" Sheki flopped back on the woven carpet, her golden hair fanning out behind her, eyes going a bit dreamy for a moment. "Do you think they're as beautiful as everyone says? I heard a merchant from Hattusa claim that Prince Kail's eyes are as blue as the summer sky, and that the princess has hair like strands of spun golden thread."
Shili tugged at the hem of her nightgown, her own eyes a bit distant as she looked out the window. "They're royalty, Sheki. And blessed by Ishtar herself. Of course they're beautiful. Everything about them will be perfect."
The sisters exchanged a look, equal parts excitement and anxiety mirrored in their identical faces. At eleven years old, they had never met -gods, seen- anyone from the royal family before, let alone hosted them in their home, and for an extended period of time at that. Never mind the blessed twins that were their own age. Well, almost anyway, only two years older, which was practically nothing. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
"I hope they like us…" Sheki murmured, sitting up again and hugging her knees to her chest, her voice growing muffled as her knees smooshed her cheeks. "What if they think we're just provincial nobodies? What if they laugh at us?"
"Father says they specifically requested to stay with us, right?" Shili reminded her sister, though her voice betrayed her own uncertainty. "Why would they do that if they were going to mock us?"
A knock at the door drew their attention to the thick wooden panel, which swung open to reveal their elder sister, Danuhepa, known to those closest to her as Dani. Despite being only two years older than the twins, she had taken on much of the duties and responsibilities of acting as a mother to the girls when their own mother had died seven years prior, giving birth to their little brother, Nuvanza, and as much as they loved their father, it was Danuhepa’s approval the twins craved the most.
As the eldest child, and the eldest daughter in particular, Dani had taken her duties as the woman of the house very seriously. Which is why her posture was impeccable, her bearing regal and mature, at least compared to the two of them, and her honey-brown eyes were distinctly less than pleased as she took in the chaos of scattered clothing and jewelry that littered the floor and furniture of the twins' shared chamber. She clicked her tongue in disapproval, hands settling on her hips in a gesture that had both shrinking down in instinctive reaction to the chastisement they knew was coming.
"Honestly, what are you two doing? The royal convoy has been spotted approaching the western gate. Father's called for everyone to gather in the city square to greet them, and you're both still in your bedclothes!"
Sheki and Shili exchanged a panicked glance before scrambling to their feet, nearly tripping over each other in their haste, rooting through the chaos for their best dresses and jewelry.
"They're here already?" Shili gasped, frantically pulling at the ties of her sleeping gown before tossing it aside. "But the messenger said they wouldn't arrive until midday!"
"Yes, well, it seems the royal twins travel faster than expected, doesn’t it?" Dani replied, already moving into the depths of the mess to find the best of the jewelry for each twin, eyes flicking from piece to piece. "I already laid out your formal tunics, the embroidered ones with the silver thread, by the window before you woke up. Now hurry, or we'll all be scolded by father!"
Sheki darted over to the until-now unnoticed clothing and fumbled with her tunic, nearly putting her head through the arm hole in her panic. "What about my hair? It's a disaster!"
"Mine too!" Shili wailed, frantically running fingers through her tangled golden locks, her own outfit untouched as she fixated on a far smaller issue, as children were wont to do.
Dani sighed heavily but moved behind Sheki first, her nimble fingers quickly working to bring order to the chaos, just as it had so many times before. "Stand still! I'll have to braid it quickly, though it won’t be anything impressive. Simple but elegant and on time is better than elaborate and late. Shili, clothes! Worry about your hair later, do your clothes!"
As Dani worked, her fingers flying and weaving through Sheki's hair with practiced ease, their father's voice boomed from somewhere in the house, firm but not yet strident. "Girls! Where are you? They're approaching the inner gates! We must leave for the square to meet them!"
"Almost ready, Father! We'll be right down!" Dani called back, finishing the last twists of Sheki's braid and securing it in place with a finely wrought copper pin. One of the many pieces that their father had made for their mother, that they were slowly inheriting as they grew old enough to use and appreciate such things. "There. Now yours, Shili, quickly!"
Tašmišu appeared in the doorway, his imposing figure filling the frame, his ceremonial robes already donned and the golden, hammer-and-flame medallion of his office gleaming against his chest. His face, weathered by a lifetime in the sun and in the forge, creased with a mixture of impatience and fondness as he surveyed the scene before him with the all-to-experienced eyes of a man that had raised three daughters and was more than familiar with their antics.
"By Ḫašamili's hammer!" he muttered, shaking his head in soft, affectionate exasperation. "The future rulers of our empire will be waiting in awkward silence with the whole of our city in the square, and my daughters are still preparing as if for an afternoon stroll!"
"Sorry, Father!" the twins chorused, Shili wincing as Dani pulled her hair perhaps a bit more firmly than necessary to speed the process along, though way the elder sister muttered a soft, aggrieved, but genuine apology for it a moment later took much of the sting from it.
Tašmišu's stern expression softened as he stepped further into the room, moving to help his eldest daughter finish Shili's hair. With practiced movements, his large but equally nimble fingers —the hands of a master craftsman, the hands of the man who had risen from a mere provincial blacksmith, one amongst many, to become the ranking prelate of the Crafting God— wove and twisted the golden strands into a simple but elegant braid.
"I know you're nervous, girls," he said, his deep voice gentler now, softer than most would likely expect from such a large man. "But remember, they are children just as you are, despite their royal birth. And they specifically asked to stay with us, in our home, rather than grander accommodations such as the governor’s palace.”
None of the girls felt it appropriate to comment that their father was the governor, or at least performed all the duties and possessed all the authority of one. The actual governor’s palace was empty save for guards and servants to keep it tidy, it’s only purpose to look impressive and to serve as a place for visiting dignitaries of sufficient rank to stay when they were in Arinna.
Unless those visiting dignitaries were, apparently, more inclined to stay in the manor attached to the Temple of Ḫašamili that Tašmišu had called home long before he had been given control of his people’s capital.
Dani handed Tašmišu a copper pin for Shili's braid, which he secured with a quick twist. "There. Now you both look like the daughters of the Hatti, not like wild forest sprites." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled fondly, his full of love and pride as he gazed at his daughters. "And you are my beautiful girls, who will make me proud when you welcome our royal guests."
Nuvanza burst into the room, his seven-year-old energy and excitement barely contained as he hopped from foot to foot, his tunic somehow already smudged despite having been dressed only moments before. "Father! The prince and princess have almost reached the town square! Everyone's waiting! Can I carry the sacred fire? Please?"
Tašmišu scooped up his youngest child, settling him on one broad shoulder as easily as if he were a sack of flour instead of a young boy of seven years. "Not today, little spark, the brazier is nearly as large as you are. No, Dani will carry the flame today, and you shall stand tall and strong beside your sisters and show our guests the dignity of our household." He turned to his daughters, restraining a grin at the poleaxed look on his eldest child’s face and the prideful beaming of her little sisters. "Come, we must hurry now."
Hurry they did, through the corridors of their home, Tašmišu leading the way with Nuvanza still perched on his shoulder. The closer they got to their destination, the louder the sound of the crowd that was waiting for them, and four pairs of lungs heaved sighs of relief as they saw that the royal entourage was just now appearing at the far end of the square that was sprawled out before them. A great roar filled the air as the Hatti voiced their emotions at the sight of both the royal twins and their chieftain, appearing to one and all that they had timed their simultaneous arrival with ritualistic precision. An accidental brilliance, perhaps, but a brilliance all the same.
The crowd roared all the louder, of course, when Dani picked up the brazier of ever-burning fire that burned at the center-apex of the double-wide stairs leading up to the temple -a smaller sibling to the far larger one that burned in the god-image’s own hand in the temple’s sanctuary- and lifted it as high as she could, her hands unmarred, unscarred, and unpained by the searing-hot bronze. A sign, divine and inborn, of their patron god’s blessing on the family, and one that never failed to awe those that bore witness to it. And why should it? No lesser human, not even an average priest or priestess of Ḫašamili, could hope to draw closer to the brazier than a foot without great discomfort, so hot were the flames, and to touch the bronze bowl would leave fatal burns in an heartbeat.
Lowering the brazier until it rested before her budding breasts, with her father by her side and her siblings around her, Dani began to descend the stairs to the waiting royals, heart thundering in her chest as she bent every ounce of her will to doing her god, her father, her family, and her royals honor.
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Cute.
That was the thought that I had as I watched Danuhepa slowly and carefully descend the steps towards my sister and I’s little cavalcade -though we weren’t riding horses any longer, so did we still qualify as a cavalcade?- amidst the loud celebration of the Hatti. Another twist in my life, but frankly after just over a decade living this new, second life of mine I was getting used to those.
How I’d died in my first life, I didn’t know. I remember an odd, tired sort of pride being my last real emotion, a lingering impression as if from a dream I couldn’t remember any longer, so perhaps I had done something spectacularly heroic and courageous in my final moments. Which certainly wasn’t the worst way to go, by any stretch of imagination. Better than most people can expect, really, especially in the world -and the time- that I had lived in. Waking up as a newborn baby certainly hadn’t been something I would have ever expected, most so-called ‘isekai’ stories involving just…waking up as your young adult self in your new life. I wasn’t going to complain though, a second chance at life was a second chance at life, and while I had been born into a place that was quite a bit hotter than the nice seventy-five degrees -with low to moderate humidity and a light breeze, thank you very much- that was my firm personal preference for a living environment, I could easily tolerate it given the other details.
Because really, what did the weather matter compared to being an ancient and rather famous historical ruler from the Late Brozne Age, some three thousand years before my own lifetime? And as if being reborn as the future Mursili II of the Hittite Empire hadn’t been enough, I seemed to have been born into a rather tweaked, more magical version of the world. Which, on the one hand, was awesome. I was born as a famous and successful king into one of my favorite nations and times periods in history and magic was real. On the other, I was going to have to deal with a lot of shit.
Not least of the fact that my would-be stepmother, Mal Nikal, was at this very moment back in Hattusa with my mother and father, plotting God only knows what sort of malicious nonsense. I felt bad for her, I really did. Almost literally sold by her father to be the concubine of a man several times her own age, and one that had essentially rejected and sidelined her at that!
Which had been something of a surprise. Either the strange ways that the world had shifted had changed Šuppiluliuma a great deal, or the death of his wife had changed him even more.
Not that he didn’t indulge in his concubines and other women, because of course he did. Frequently, with a great deal of enthusiasm, and often in a…well, shall we call it a group setting? But as libidinous and energetic as my father was, he wasn’t an idiot. And because he wasn’t an idiot, he wasn’t so blinded by Mal-Nikal’s tits and ass that he missed the manipulations inherent in her existence and presence, which was honestly more than I had expected of him. He’d seen it when she first arrived, some three years or so ago, and had continued to avoid taking her to bed -or, at the very least, avoided getting her pregnant. I wasn’t positive if he’d slept with her or, and frankly I didn’t like to think about my father’s sex life too much- over the course of that time as well.
Of course, I was proud of myself, too, given I hadn’t killed the bitch yet. ‘I’, or rather the man whose life I was now living, had in my old life not been very complimentary about Mal-Nikal. As a matter of fact, several surviving artifacts from Mursili II’s reign had been him talking about how damn evil she was. I believe it was something along the lines of her being a malicious, wicked, false-faced and treacherous snake that had been responsible for the death of Gassulawiya, ‘my’ first wife.
Whom I hadn’t met yet, but I was certainly looking forward to it.
Anyway, I wasn’t going to let the Babylonian kill my wife, and I’d be damned if I let her freely take shots at my beloved mother in the interim.
Sadly, even for the Second Prince of the Hittite Empire, having a concubine of one’s father (and the priestess-princess daughter of the king of Babylon) summarily executed was wholly illegal, and I wasn’t quite so willing to indulge (yet) in Byzantine politics to arrange for her brutal murder, either. Not least because my parents would never believe that I wasn’t directly involved in such a thing.
Thus, I was left with trying to blunt as many of her Byzantine politics as humanely possible. Which was saying something, given Hittite politics had been the Byzantine politics before Byzantium was a thing. Long before Byzantium was a thing. Hell, some two centuries ago, Telepinu -the king, not the harvest god- had been forced to codify via proclamation some pretty strict and harsh laws in order to keep the rampant dynastic slaughters that had almost destroyed our nation. Regicide, patricide, fratricide, military coups…we’d had it all, and frankly it was only due to his marriage to my mother that my father had kept his head attached to his own neck for violating that proclamation.
Id’ gotten off my own mental track again, hadn’t I? It would never cease to amaze me, the way that I could literally distract myself during my own internal monologues. The point was, I had died and been reborn millenia before I’d been born the first time around, and I had an awful lot of work to do in order to stop my somewhat-sympathetic but very evil sort-of step-mother from killing my actual mother, almost bringing my nation to it’s knees, killing several of my siblings, and attempting to put her own bloodline on the throne so that she could rule from behind her as-yet-unborn son. Which would be complicated, time-consuming, and…
And elbow landing in my ribs broke me from my thoughts, and even as I grunted softly -posture not changing so much as an inch, with the ease of long practice in dealing with such vicious sisterly abuse- I side-eyed my pleasantly smiling twin.
“Try to keep your eyes in your head, brother. She is the daughter of our host, himself a High Priestess and something of a King in his own right. The last thing we need is your…what is it you called them, ‘hormones’? Yes, the last thing we need is your hormones causing friction with the family of a man that looks like he could snap you in half with one hand.” she murmured out of the side of her mouth, eyes glinting with the same delightful wickedness she had shown since we were toddlers scampering about the palace, and I huffed at her softly.
“She is beautiful, sister, and something tells me that each and every one of them would be nothing short of thrilled if I took Danuhepa for a concubine.” I retorted, both of us well aware that I was right. Even if Danuhepa wasn’t terribly sure on a personal level, as most people would be about their first romantic relationship -never mind the fact that it would be with a member of one’s royal family-, I didn’t doubt that she’d throw herself into it for the social and cultural duties and implications nonetheless. And she was one of my wives, historically speaking. That being said… “But you needn’t worry overmuch, little sister, I’ll keep my hands to myself for the time being. We are, as you say, guests, and I’d at the very least like to see if we’re compatible -on a personal level, Nicky- before I approached either she or her father.”
She gave me a side-long look of her own, but didn’t otherwise dignify me with a verbal response. Though I didn’t doubt I’d be paying for that ‘little sister’ comment sooner rather than later. I was, after all, the younger of the two of us. I was also, however, the taller, and that was the most important thing. Obviously. I was therefore, by dint of both being taller and being the only one of her two brothers healthy enough to keep her safe on a regular basis, both her big brother and her primary guardian, in the literal and non-legal sense.
My logic was undeniable.
Not that Nicky couldn’t kick some ass in her own right, of course, I’d seen to that. I’d taught her what martial arts I could remember from my old life -which was a decent amount from a mix of styles- and I’d badgered our parents into letting her learn swordplay and archery as well. After all, if so many of our rivals were doing it due to a shortage of royal men to defend the royal women, we Hittites could hardly refuse to do the same.
Tašmišu and his familial entourage finally stepped onto the far side of the square, and I promptly started moving towards them, waving a restraining hand at my guards as they moved to follow. Nicky, for her part, waited only a moment, a heartbeat at the most, before following at my side. Which was entirely against royal protocal, of course, in fact my sister should be seated beneath a shaded pavilion and letting them come to us, if not making them come to the governor’s palace to meet us at our leisure. I, however, was not inclined to be quite that rudely engrossed in my royal privileges. We were, after all, their guests, in their capital city. And we were arriving several hours early, which was plenty rude to begin with!
“Most Honored of Guests, Prince Mursili and Princess Asmu-Nikal, be welcome in Arinna. Be welcome amongst the Hatti. Be welcome before the eyes of Ḫašamili, Forge-Father and Guardian-of-Homes, Warder-of-Travelers and Cloaker-of-Armies, Guide of Metalworkers and Craftsman.” Tašmišu intoned, his voice exactly as deep and resonant as one would expect of a man his size, ever syllable carrying to every ear, gesturing to the flame his eldest daughter held when he spoke of the god’s eyes.
“Tašmišu Forge-King, High-Priest of most revered Ḫašamili, Chief-and-Guardian of the Hatti and Protector of Arinna, my sister and I receive your welcome with humble gratitude.” I bowed, deeply enough to suit a man from the Imperial Senate rather than ‘merely’ the chieftain of a subsumed people, enjoying the reaction that my excessive respect and courtesy garnered. Then I turned to Danuhepa and knelt in supplication, bowing before the flame she carried. “Mighty Ḫašamili, Smith-of-Men, I give you praise and honor you in this, your most sacred of cities. I ask for your blessing upon your most devoted priest and his family, upon the people that have so loyally devoted themselves to you and safeguarded your Great Temple and, should we prove worthy, my sister and myself.”
The crowd around us murmured in surprise, my sister’s sharp gasp catching my ear even as she -despite her surprise, and I was definitely going to regret not filling her in on this part of the plan, but then again I had only come up with it when I saw the sacred flame in Danuhepa’s hands- mirrored my physical actions at my side. Then came the gasps again as the flame turned white, the searing-bright white that few (if any) fires could achieve in this era naturally. But then, this wasn’t natural, was it? I could sense Ḫašamili’s attention, had sensed his eyes on us since the moment Tašmišu had invoked his name to greet us.
“Ḫašamili wishes to know, why is it that a life Devoted from birth to Ishtar asks for His blessings upon those already sworn to His service? Why does the Young Prince wish for a blessing upon himself and his sister?” Tašmišu asked, his own eyes shimmering with a silver-white veil, and I swallowed heavily. God, I really should have thought this out, maybe gone to the main temple after planning something properly, but I hadn’t and now I had a god questioning me through his High Priest.
“Great Ḫašamili, it is true I am devoted to your divine kin, to Ishtar of the Wandering Star, Queen of Heaven and Lady of Battle. I was given to her before my birth, and I remain her loyal servant even now. But if I am someday to lead and safeguard my people, it is not only the martial and marital arts that I must master. I must be able to build, to guide and shape and create. There are none greater than you in these things. So I ask for your blessing, and if I am not in this moment worthy, I ask for the chance to prove myself so.”
“…Ḫašamili will not so easily claim ground in the soul of a man dedicated to another, but he hears the truth in your words and acknowledges them as such. So he shall watch you, judge your worthiness. Whether a trial shall come, he does not say, only that he will see what you are made of in the fullness of time.”
“I thank you for your consideration, Mighty Lord.”
The white flickered once, twice, three times before settling back into its previous orange-red, the god’s presence receding, and I rose with a stiffness that was both sudden and almost-entirely mental, quite thoroughly aware of all of the purely mortal eyes that were now on us. So I promptly bowed, slightly more deeper than before, to Tašmišu once again.
“You have my apologies, oh Forge-King, for breaking courtesy and protocol in such a way, but I felt…compelled.”
Tašmišu’s laugh was a thundering, rolling thing that spilled out even as he reached to clap me companionably on the shoulder —hard, the way only fathers or men long acquainted with smithing could manage without malice, and he happened to be both- even as his daughters giggled softly and his son laughed brightly. “There is no apology necessary, my prince. The gods speak as and when they choose, and so too do those they favor. Hatti hospitality can survive a moment of honest reverence to one of our patrons!” he squeezed the same shoulder lightly before returning to a more somber mien. “That being said, we will need to speak on this further. If my god has his eyes on you, I cannot in good conscience leave you wandering blindly into the furnace. For now, though, please join my family and I in the governor’s palace for the feast that has been prepared for you.”
“I, we, will do so happily. But I first wish to address your people as a whole, with your permission?” I asked, and though he looked briefly surprised, he nodded none the less. Smiling, I moved towards the center of the square and looked around at the gather people -young and old, man and woman, rich or poor- before lifting my arms as if inviting an embrace. “Good people of Arinna, my most beloved sister and I give you greetings, and our heartfelt thanks for your warm welcome! A welcome, a show of hospitality, as fine as any we would receive in Hattusa or Carchemish or Arazawa! But what more could be expected of the loyal, brilliant people of the Hatti? The people whose forges and anvils and fields and mines the Empire relies upon! Our fathers, brothers, and sons, defending us with your swords and spears! Our mothers, sisters, and daughters, feeding us with the crops you harvest and the tools you craft!”
They cheered, voices echoing from the stones around us, and I let it go for a long moment before raising my hands silently to quiten them again.
“You have fed and forged and bled for the Empire, and know that we are ever mindful of all you have done for us, and of all you continue to do! In this time of peace and plenty, we come not to inspect you, to scrutinize you or to sit in judgment of you, but instead to learn from you! For the world is changing, and so too must its rulers if they are to keep faith with the people they rule.”
I paused for a moment, as much for genuine consideration and breath as for the drama of the moment, and the crowd sensed the difference, staying quiet and waiting for me to continue.
“I am young, and foolish, and ignorant of many things. My Lord Father, and Revered Mother, have done much to correct my ignorance, as is right and proper. As have the many ministers and priests and men of power and knowledge that call Hattusa home. But the Empire stretches beyond Hattusa’s walls, and so I must widen my gaze and look beyond them. That, people of Arinna, is why I have come. To learn whatever it is that you might have to teach me. I shall be, my sister shall be, from this moment until the day of my departure, your humble students.”
Now it was to them that I bowed, and though they cheered -loudly, enthusiastically, full-throatily- I could sense their confusion. I was nothing that they had expected, so very different in many ways from what royalty or people of distant power that they had met before. Good. Let them be confused. Being different from the expectations suited my purposes just fine. So long as I was careful, I would be both memorable and approachable, respectable and loveable.
I was going to be a great fucking king.
…probably.