Zevki Sultan

~ Chapter 2 ~

It's the day of the Grand Party and engagement ceremony. Though I last met the Duke of Aragon only 2 weeks ago, my parents and his have solidified the plans to get married, and now we will have a great party before the announcement.

I have to admit, I'm slightly disappointed by how fast the events are moving, and after getting married, I'll be more confined than ever. My father the king reassured me there was nothing to be afraid of, but again it was all about my parent's political ambitions over my personal interests. That's how it worked for Princesses. Not all, but some unlucky ones like me.

I was dressed in a luxurious red gown and yellow crown, matching with my sister as usual. After I finished dressing, I stepped out into our balcony courtyard to take a breath of fresh air before the party / ceremony. 

"Francesca, It's ever so lovely to see you out here!" I heard a voice behind me. I gripped the balcony harder as I turned my head to see who it was. Just as I suspected, Isabella.

"What do you want, Isabella?" I mumbled. My frustration with her was not yet remedied, and every time I saw my sister I envied her- the easygoing personality she possessed, and again, the fact that she wasn't getting married anytime soon.

Isabella sauntered over, her own gown flowing gracefully around her. She leaned against the balcony beside me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, come now, sister. Don't be so dour. Today is a momentous occasion! You should be happy."

I scoffed, turning my gaze back to the gardens below. "Happy? I'm being married off like a prized cow at a fair."

Isabella's laughter was light, airy, and insincere. She clearly saw my endless suffering as a joke. "Oh, Francesca. Always so dramatic. It's a great match, and you know it. The Duke of Aragon is quite handsome, and he'll be a powerful ally for our kingdom."

I desperately wanted Isabella to get a taste of her own medicine, but the likelihood of that happening was a definitive zero.

I sighed, giving up. The weight of duty pressing heavily on my shoulders. "I suppose. But that doesn't make it any easier."

Isabella patted my shoulder with an exaggerated gesture of sympathy. "You'll manage. You're stronger than you think."

Before I could respond, the sound of a trumpet blaring from the courtyard below signaled the beginning of the festivities. Isabella gave me one last, encouraging smile before twirling around and heading back inside, her demeanor cheerful and carefree, as per usual.

I took a deep breath, straightened my matching gown with hers, and followed her. The grand hall was already filling with guests, their laughter and chatter echoing off the marble walls. The scent of flowers and expensive perfumes mingled in the air, creating a heady, almost suffocating atmosphere.

My father, King Charles, stood at the head of the room, his presence commanding and regal. My mother, Queen Isabella, was by his side, her face a mask of serene composure as she wore a lovely pale blue gown and her tiara. They spotted me and Isabella approaching, and my father's stern expression softened just slightly.

"Ah, Francesca, Isabella. You both look stunning in those matching outfits," he said, his voice warm but authoritative.

"Thank you, your majesties," we replied in unison, curtsying gracefully.

"Francesca, tonight is a pivotal moment for our kingdom. Your engagement to the Duke of Aragon will secure our future," he said, looking at me intently.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I understand, Father."

He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. Now, let us enjoy the evening. The announcement will be made shortly."

With that, he turned to greet a group of nobles, leaving me and Isabella to mingle among the guests. I plastered on a polite smile and made small talk, but my mind was elsewhere, lost in a whirl of doubts and fears.

Just as the clock struck noon and the moment for the grand announcement approached, the air was shattered by a series of deafening crashes. The grand doors of the palace burst open, and chaos erupted. Screams filled the hall as armed men, dressed in the garb of Ottoman raiders, stormed in, brandishing swords and shouting in a language I didn't understand.

Panic spread like wildfire. Guests trampled over each other in their desperate attempts to flee. I stood frozen, my heart pounding in my chest. Isabella grabbed my arm, her face pale with terror.

"Francesca, we have to go!" she shouted over the din, pulling me towards a side exit.

We hurried through the corridors, the sounds of fighting and screaming growing fainter as we ran. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why were Ottoman raiders here? What did they want?

Oh Jesus Christ please save us, I thought. I have been always faithful to you.

As we rounded a corner, a group of raiders appeared, blocking our path. They eyed us with cruel smiles, their intentions clear. It was a rumour I had heard once- where the Ottomans kidnapped girls to take as slaves. That usually didn't happen to princesses but...

"Run, Isabella!" I screamed, shoving my sister in the opposite direction. She hesitated for a moment before sprinting away, her footsteps echoing down the hall. I was left confronted by the men.