Right after the end of the second world war, at age 22, Kiraz Aznavour is faced with a shocking revelation on her mother's death bed : she was adopted.
Follow the young girl in her journey to discover the truth about her biological parents, an impos...
Please read the following disclaimers that apply to this entire story before reading.
Disclaimer 1 : This story is based on historical events of the early 20th century that include violent and traumatic happenings such as war, genocide, nationalism, racism, murder, mass rapes and more. Expect adequate level of violence, do NOT read if any of the above is a triggering point for you.
Disclaimer 2 : Although based on historical facts, this is still a work of fiction. No offense is implied to anything the protagonists and characters represents. This isn't aimed to depict any people, religion or culture in a bad light. It is merely a dramatic historical setting in the background of a love story. Turkish readers specially, please do not take offense, private messages and comments are open for discussion.
I never wrote an EdSer AU and found that their characterisation in SÇK gave enough material to work with in the fanfiction world. Many iconic EdSer AU's out here are about mafia stories or polar genre, from Tsarina's Lie To Me to olaw12341234 Heartless among my favourites. While I love reading them when well written, they're not my predilection genre.
On the other hand, I have always been passionated by contemporain History and been studying and reading a lot about the Ottoman Empire's History. With this month being the first Turkish Republic's 100th anniversary, I thought about a little EdSer AU scenario set in History to mark it.
Kiraz is played by Maya Basol, but you'll have to imagine her in the ages she is depicted in, none is among Maya's current age group. As for EdSer, leaving you with the story's cover below.
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8 May 1945, Paris.
22 years old Kiraz Aznavour walked with a french flag in her hand, laughing and singing along with her companions and friends as they descended upon the Champs-Élysées, her heels clicking with the star shaped pavement of the Star Roundabout.
The streets were filled with joy and celebrations. The war was over. Their country was finally free, after five long years of Nazi Occupation. The bakeries would be full again, flowers would flourish again, the Universities would be places of studies again.
They would be able to walk freely in the streets, dance all night, have pic-nics in parks. Sing their songs again. Dress how they wanted again, for the women.
Kiraz sang the national anthem with full lungs, by the end of the day, her throat hurt from laughing, screaming with joy and singing.
Kiraz wasn't naive. If there was anything that wasn't left in her after the Occupation was innocence.
