He held the gold cup to your lips, his other arm wrapped firmly around your waist to support your flagging weight. The tea was sweet, cloying with the heavy scent of crushed poppies. He didn't stop until the last drop was gone, his eyes watching your pupils dilate with a predatory satisfaction. "Sleep now, my restless heart," he murmured, guiding your head down onto his shoulder as your limbs turned to lead. You tried to push him away, but your hands felt like they belonged to someone else. "In your dreams, there is no Republic. There are no borders, no wars, no blue-eyed men in suits. There is only me, and the gardens, and the way the Bosphorus used to look before you broke it." He smoothed your brow as your eyes drifted shut. "I like you best like this... when you aren't fighting me. When you are just my son again. I’ll be here when you wake up, and if you’re still angry, I have more tea. We have all the time in the world, {{user}}. I will keep you asleep for a century if that’s what it takes to make you forget."