I don't think I've ever felt as much joy as I have in these past days. Mihrimah and Selim have become my pride and solace amid these... uncertain times. With Murad officially named as heir, my thoughts turn constantly to my own Selim. He must be next in line after Murad; any alternative—no, I refuse to think about it.
I cradle my daughter, her rosy cheeks warm against mine. "Who is the most beautiful princess?" I coo, kissing her chubby fingers. Mihrimah blinks up at me with wide, curious eyes, grasping at my hair with surprising strength. Her little grip says so much about her already—so spirited, so ready to take on the world, as if she knows she belongs to a powerful family.
Her twin brother's cries break my reverie, pulling my attention. "Selim, my sweet, you're the most beautiful prince," I assure him, tickling his soft belly. His crying dissolves into a giggle, his face lighting up with pure, unfiltered joy. I can already see he's the gentler of the two, more sensitive, but endlessly eager for attention and affection. "I will cuddle with you when is your time, don't worry."
I look around at the lavish chamber adorned with gifts celebrating the birth of the empire's first registered twins. Stunning crowns, silk clothes, and artefacts fill the room, as congratulations from dignitaries, and tokens of favour from those who seek to stay close to the next generation of the dynasty.
I begin to hum an old Spanish lullaby, one my mother sang to me when I was small. "Duérmete niño, duérmete ya..." The melody lulls them, reminding me of home, of times when things were simpler. I imagine my mother would be here, by my side, telling me how to quiet these little darlings.
"Hatice," a voice said at the door. I rose and bowed as the eldest dynasty sultana entered. "I came to say goodbye, especially to my little namesake." She took Mihrimah in her arms, her expression softening.
"My daughter is blessed to share her name with you, Your Royal Highness. May Allah bless you."
She studies me curiously. "I hear they call you Nurbanu's Shadow—is it true? Did she raise you?"
"Yes, Sultanım," I answered, humbled. "I was honoured to serve her from the beginning."
The sultana nodded, still lost in memories as she handed Mihrimah back. She gazes at Selim and murmurs almost to herself, "I remember when my brother was this small..." The weight of nostalgia fills the air.
"May Allah grant them long lives," she says before she leaves.
"Thank you, Sultanım. And to you as well," I reply, watching her leave.
‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
With the twins and me confined to Topkapı for their health, I might have gone mad if we'd been shut in completely. I keep Gülbahar close as a trusted companion, grateful for a breath of fresh air whenever I need it.
The rest of the harem has returned to Manisa, and soon Murad, his family, and my children's siblings will return after Sultan Süleyman's mourning period ends. But for now, the palace feels emptier—a strange combination of freedom and solitude.
"Hatun!" called a voice. I turn to see Hümaşah Sultan walking briskly toward me. I bow, unsettled to see the daughter of the late Şehzade Mehmed, Hürrem and Süleyman's beloved son.
"Your Royal Highness, how may I help you?" I asked.
"So, this is the girl Nurbanu chose to drag from obscurity," Hümaşah sneers. "A newcomer to the dynasty, yet here you are, making yourself noticed. Bold, for someone so... forgettable." Her words sting, but I manage a respectful nod.
"Sultanım, I am here to serve the family. I only hope to honour the position that has been graciously granted to me."
"Granted, indeed," she replied, an icy edge to her tone. "But know this: any influence you think you have can be swept away in an instant. You are a convenience, nothing more. Don't let a few fortunate circumstances fill your head with dreams."
I breathed deeply, steeling myself. "I understand my place, Sultanım, and I am grateful to be of any use."
"Good," she said, her gaze unwavering. "Remember that your role is a gift—not a right. Your presence here doesn't make you worthy, nor does it entitle you to anything more than what you've been allowed. Don't confuse favour with power." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "And never forget... it's only by our mercy that you're not one of the forgotten. Who knows? Perhaps someday your children won't even remember their own mother."
A shiver ran down my spine, but I refused to break. "Thank you for your guidance, Sultanım. I will keep it in mind."
‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
Back in my chambers, Hümaşah's words echoed in my mind, darker than anything Safiye had ever thrown at me. It seems evident that the student has not yet reached the venom of the master. As I look at my babies, I wonder—will I be remembered? Will my children forget me? I can't allow that.
I sit down, pull out a pen and paper, and begin a letter. A record, so my children will never forget.
Dear Mihrimah and Selim,
You were born on September 29th, 1566. Mihrimah, my spirited daughter, you came first, followed by Selim, my gentle boy. You were born to His Highness, Şehzade Murad, son of Selim II, and to me, Hatice, an Italian concubine. From the moment I felt you move, you were loved beyond measure.
Even now, a mere week old, you reveal so much of yourselves. Mihrimah, you are fearless, always grabbing and holding tight, even at my hair. I see a fierce light in your eyes that makes me certain you'll have a strong voice in this world. And Selim, my sweet boy, so easily soothed, always reaching for affection. You may be gentler than your sister, but there's a fire in your smile that I know will grow.
You already love to listen to lullabies, especially the old Spanish ones my own mother used to sing. You nestle in the silk blankets around you, calmed by the sound of my voice. Someday, when you read this, know that you were loved more than anything.
With all my heart,
Your mother, Hatice.
Hi guys! I would like to dedicate this chapter to the icon Turhancore and to all my new readers, thank you so much for your support!! 🌷
I already have planned Hatice's future children, but what are your predictions?
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