Author's pov
The marriage took place in the city of Manisa. Now, it was time for Mihrimah to move to her new home in Istanbul. Accompanied by her maids, the Sultan, and his army, they embarked on their journey to Istanbul. Along the way, they stopped for a rest. It was here that our leads met again after six long years.
In the seclusion of the tent room, they didn't exchange many words, but their hearts spoke volumes. The silence between them was filled with unspoken emotions and memories of the past. It was a silent conversation, a dialogue of hearts rather than words. This marked the beginning of a new chapter in their lives, a chapter filled with anticipation and hope for the future.
Sultan Murad pov
Seeing her in all her beauty and grace, my heart began to race. I knew she didn't love me now, but I was determined to change that.
We reminisced about our past encounters, and through these conversations, Mihrimah began to open up more to me. Each shared memory, each laugh, and each moment of silence brought us closer. It was as if we were rediscovering each other, learning to navigate the uncharted waters of our relationship.
This was just the beginning. I knew the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but I was ready to face them, for her and for us.
Author's pov
The journey took several days, and during this time, Mihrimah began to develop feelings for Murad. The seeds of affection were slowly sprouting in her heart, adding a new dimension to their relationship.
Upon reaching the capital, Mihrimah was warmly welcomed by her best friend, Atike Sultan, and Kosem Sultan. The familiar faces brought a sense of comfort and belonging. As she stepped into her new life, she was not alone; she had friends and loved ones by her side, ready to support her in this new chapter of her life. The journey had just begun, and Mihrimah was ready to embrace whatever the future held for her.
" DESTUR !!!! SULTAN MURAD WA MIHRIMAH SULTAN HAZRETLER !!! "
In the grandeur of the Sultanate, all present bowed in reverence to the Sultan's wife, a princess whose power was unrivaled.
"Welcome, Mihrimah," Atike Sultan's voice echoed through the hall, a sentiment echoed by all present. "Thank you, Atike Sultan," they chorused. Mihrimah's gaze swept over the scene before her. The state she beheld was not only the most beautiful but also the most powerful in the world. It was a sight she had seen and a life she had lived before, yet now, as she viewed it as her future home, it was nothing short of overwhelming.
Without a moment's hesitation, Murad moved to inspect the workings of the Sultanate in his absence.
Kosem Sultan watched this unfold, a smile playing on her lips. She turned to Mihrimah and said, "Come, Mihrimah. Welcome to your new home." "Thank you, Aunt," Mihrimah responded. Kosem Sultan continued, "Come with me; I'll show you the most beautiful place in this Sultanate." Mihrimah knew exactly what she meant and followed her willingly.
Their journey through the palace led them to an imposing entrance guarded by an array of soldiers.
As they approached, the guards swung open the doors and announced their arrival......
" DESTUR !!!! VALIDE KOSEM SULTAN.......WA .......HASEKI MIHRIMAH SULTAN HAZRETLER!! "
The Aghas, maidens, and Khlefas rose in unison, their bodies forming a living corridor of deference. Their heads bowed in reverence for the two most formidable women in the palace: the Sultan's mother and his wife. The air was thick with anticipation, the silence punctuated only by the soft rustle of silk and the quiet clink of jewelry.
Kosem Sultan's gaze met Mihrimah's, a silent yet potent command for her to advance. With a deep, steadying breath, Mihrimah held her head high. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stepped onto the sacred grounds of the harem. Behind her followed Kosem Sultan, Sumbul Agha, and her retinue of maids. Their footsteps echoed softly against the marble floors, a haunting melody that underscored the gravity of the moment.
Her path led her to a grand staircase, its steps worn smooth by countless royal feet. From this vantage point, she surveyed the sea of bowed heads below. The sight was both awe-inspiring and humbling. Yet, amidst this display of respect and fear, she found herself unable to distinguish between those who bowed out of genuine reverence and those who did so out of sheer terror.
The scent of exotic perfumes filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of burning incense. The soft glow of lanterns cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an ethereal atmosphere. Yet beneath this veneer of beauty and power lay an undercurrent of tension, a silent reminder of the delicate balance of power within these walls.
As Mihrimah descended the staircase, she could feel hundreds of eyes on her, their gazes heavy with unspoken words and hidden intentions. It was a world within a world, a place where power was as intoxicating as it was dangerous.
As Mihrimah surveyed the sea of bowed heads, Kosem Sultan turned to her, her gaze piercing and unwavering. "Here," she began, her voice resonating with the weight of centuries of rule, "only your command will hold sway, Mihrimah."
Her words hung in the air, a testament to the power that was now within Mihrimah's grasp. The harem, a world unto itself, was now hers to command. Every whisper of silk, every clink of a jewel, every bowed head and averted gaze - all were for her.
Kosem Sultan paused, her gaze dropping to the sea of bowed heads below them. Then, lifting her eyes to meet Mihrimah's once more, she finished her proclamation. "...And your order," she said, her voice steady and resolute, "...will be the Sultan's order for the harem."
The words echoed through the grand hall, their significance not lost on any who heard them. This was not just a transfer of power; it was a declaration. A declaration that Mihrimah was no longer just the Sultan's wife - she was now a ruler in her own right.
Surveying the scene before her, Mihrimah and Kosem Sultan proceeded to the chamber of Valide Sultan. The grandeur of the room was a testament to the power and prestige of its occupant.
Once inside, Mihrimah was introduced to everyone present. Among them were Murad's sisters, Gevherhan Sultan, and several Khalfas. One of them was Nigar Khalfa, whom Kosem Sultan introduced as the head of the administrative staff of the harem. Each introduction was a reminder of the intricate web of power and influence within these walls.
After the introductions, Kosem Sultan ordered Hagi Aga to show Mihrimah to her room. "This is your room, Sultana," Hagi Aga said, leading Mihrimah to a breathtakingly beautiful chamber. It was a room she had seen in her childhood, one she had admired greatly and even requested from her uncle, Sultan Ahmed.
The familiarity of the room brought a rush of nostalgia. It was more than just a room; it was a piece of her past, a symbol of her journey from a young girl with dreams to a powerful woman with a realm to rule.
Everything was according to her choice. Just the way she would like and most importantly it have a setting area which was so beautiful.
"Sultana, you should rest. I'll take my leave," Hagi Aga suggested, to which Mihrimah simply nodded in response.
Once Hagi Aga had departed, Mihrimah issued an order that she was not to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. She changed into more comfortable attire and reclined on her bed, her mind awash with thoughts of her new life and, most importantly, of Sultan Murad.
In her memories, he was a playful cousin with whom she had shared many a childhood game. But now, seeing him as her husband was an entirely different matter.
The thought of the other women in the harem, all potential companions for her husband, was something she found difficult to accept. As a princess of the Ottoman Empire, she had been raised with the belief that her husband would remain loyal to her alone. The idea of him being with other women, let alone fathering children with them, was something she could not and would not tolerate.
Lost in these thoughts, she drifted into sleep without even realizing it.
Night fell and Mihrimah was roused from her slumber by her maid, Fatima Hatun. It was time for dinner and Kosem Sultan had arranged it in her honor. Shaking off the remnants of sleep, Mihrimah prepared herself for the evening meal.
Mihrimah made her way to Valide Sultan's room for dinner, a meal reserved for the women of the palace as the Sultan dined with his Pashas.
Over dinner, they engaged in conversation. Gevherhan Sultan, who had overseen the arrangements for Mihrimah's room at her brother's request, asked if Mihrimah was satisfied with her accommodations. Mihrimah assured her that no changes were necessary. Kosem Sultan advised her to inform Lalazar Khalfa if she needed anything, to which Mihrimah responded affirmatively.
After discussing a few more matters, they retired to their respective rooms. Mihrimah prepared for bed and engaged in conversation with her maids, who were also her friends. Among them was Mehvish, the youngest and most sensitive of the group. They discussed the differences between the harem here and the one in Manisa.
Alisha hesitantly informed Mihrimah that Lalazar Khalfa had sent a girl to the Sultan's chamber that night. Confused, Mihrimah asked for clarification, only to be told by Fatma that the girl had been sent for 'halvet'. Angered by this news and its late delivery, Mihrimah dismissed her maids.
Alone and upset, Mihrimah reflected on the situation. She realized that without her maids, she would be oblivious to her husband's activities. The thought that everyone in the palace might be trying to hide this from her only fueled her anger.
As she stewed in her thoughts, an unexpected visitor entered her room without permission. Turning to reprimand the intruder, she found herself face-to-face with Sultan Murad, the very source of her anger.
Without uttering a greeting, she simply nodded at him and retreated to her bed. Observing her demeanor, Murad could tell that something had upset his wife.
"So, how do you find my palace?" Murad inquired, attempting to engage Mihrimah in conversation. "Just as it was before, Sultan," she responded tersely. Sensing her irritation, Murad asked, "What's wrong, Mihrimah? Why are you so upset?"
"Why would I be upset, Sultan? I'm not angry about anything," she retorted, her tone betraying her words. "That's not what your tone suggests," Murad countered, causing Mihrimah's anger to flare. "What are you implying, Your Majesty?!" she demanded through gritted teeth.
"Why do you always address me so formally? Call me by my name," Murad requested, his tone bordering on a demand. "How can I dare to address you so casually? You're the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire!" she responded sarcastically.
"So what if I am the Sultan? You're my wife; you have every right to call me whatever you wish," Murad replied softly.
"Oh really... So will the Sultan of this Empire tolerate his wife asserting her rights over him? I thought being the wife of the Sultan was no different from being a concubine," Mihrimah retorted, her words dripping with sarcasm.
"Mihrimah, why are you speaking this way? Haven't I told you countless times before coming to Istanbul that you're different from the other women in this harem? You're my wife. The love of my life..." Murad tried to reassure her.
Mihrimah was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. On one hand, she felt a sense of sadness and frustration. As the Sultan's wife, she was expected to respect him and abide by his decisions, a far cry from the freedom she had enjoyed as the cherished and headstrong daughter of her parents. On the other hand, she was confused about the emotions she was experiencing. She had married Murad for her family's sake, yet she found herself grappling with feelings she couldn't quite understand.
One thing, however, was crystal clear to her: she would not tolerate sharing her husband with other women. Regardless of his status as Sultan, she was a princess and would not accept such a situation.
As these thoughts swirled in her mind, she looked into Murad's eyes, which were filled with adoration and happiness. "Moreover, Murad," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with someone else?"
Murad took her hands in his and spoke softly, "Mihrimah, you are the most special person to me in this Empire. You don't have to worry about the other girls in the harem."
His words marked the beginning of Mihrimah's trust in Murad. Despite her confusion and apprehension, she found herself wanting to believe him.
They spent the night talking and getting to know each other better. It wasn't a physical closeness they shared that night but an emotional and mental one.
As Mihrimah watched Murad sleep peacefully, she saw not just the Sultan known for his ruthlessness but also an innocent man who was her best friend. If any of his Pashas saw him now, they would surely deny that this peaceful sleeper was the same man who ruled the Ottoman Empire with an iron fist.
With these thoughts in mind, Mihrimah drifted off to sleep.
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