Muhtesem Yuzyil Imagines ♡

The Golden Age of Sultan Mustafa I: Crown Prince (Part 2) (By MillsTeeth)

I was 16 years old on that fateful day in 1534 when pirates kidnapped me to sell me into slavery. Although I tried to hide as best I could, one of the pirates caught me and dragged me by my hair while throwing a bag of coins in my mother's face, hitting her in the face and leaving her bleeding. That image of my poor mother terrifies me and haunts my nightmares to this day. The pirate who caught me dragged me to the ship where they were holding other unfortunate Venetian and Greek girls of my own age who were in the same situation as me. I remember that they threatened to kill my brother and mother in my presence if I did not cooperate. Faced with the threat and crying in terror, I preferred to cooperate with the pirates rather than have them harm my family. Even though I am a grown woman by now, I still have nightmares about my parents and brother screaming and crying, helplessly calling me by my old name and trying to help me without success.

Although I managed to survive, the guilt ate at me every day for quite some time because that day was the last time I saw my parents and my brother alive. But at some point I had to resign myself to the idea that I would never see them again and when I accepted my reality, I decided that I was going to live whatever fate had in store for me, there was no turning back. At a slave market in Constantinople, I called Mustafa's sister to attention and she paid a good amount of money to the seller to take me to the harem in Manisa. Even though the situation was extremely degrading in itself, by this point I had already resigned myself. Although Yahya and Sultana Mihrisah were very correct and respectful people, for a moment the idea of ​​escaping crossed my mind, but I was extremely tired and did not have the heart to do so. I went in silence all the way to Manisa and they respected my wish not to want to talk on the way.

Upon arriving at Manisa Palace, I was met by Yusuf, the eunuch in charge of the harem, and Fidan, the maid of Sultana Mahidevran, Mustafa's mother and head of the harem at Manisa Palace. Sultana Mihrisah gave them orders to bathe me, change my clothes, and then take me to the palace doctor for a series of medical examinations. Once they found out that I was healthy and presentable enough, Fidan sent me straight to Sultana Mahidevran, the mother of Mustafa and Mihrisah.

This is where my story begins and how I stopped being Eirene to become Melek, Haseki of Sultan Mustafa I.

***

"Sultana Mihrisah, this letter has reached you from the capital," one of the maids informed her, handing Mihrisah a roll of paper. Mahidevran looked at his daughter expectantly, waiting for her to open the letter.

"You may leave, thank you very much," Mihrisah thanked her as the maid gave her a final bow before leaving Mahidevran's chambers.

"Open the letter, daughter. Allah willing, I hope it is good news," Mahidevran said anxiously after the maid had closed the door.

Mihrisah opened the scroll containing the letter and read it carefully. It was from the Sultan. She thought for a moment, trying to process the information contained in the letter. It was not very long, but in a nutshell, the Sultan wanted Mihrisah to return to the capital to take charge of the harem after he had dismissed Hürrem from her post.

—Mother, the Sultan wants me to return to the capital because... —Mihrisah spoke seriously, looking first at the letter and then at her mother. —He dismissed Hürrem from the management of the harem. He didn't give me many details but he wants me to be the one in charge.

Mahidevran was unable to hide her joy at the news. The fact that the Sultan had appointed Mihrisah over Hürrem to take charge of the administration of the harem must have been a very hard blow for the redhead. She would have paid anything to be in the capital seeing how mortified Hürrem would be right now.

"Blessed be Allah, Mihrisah," Mahidevran thanked, overjoyed at the good news in contrast to Mihrisah's caution. "I can only imagine how that Russian viper must be writhing in rage..."