Conqueror | Murad III

chapter thirteen

In the days following the poisoning, the thrill and envy of Safiye's new son's birth, Şehzade Mahmud, swept through the palace like a gust, erasing my tragedy from everyone's memory but mine. Even Murad seemed enchanted by her new family, leaving me and our children forgotten.

My frustration simmered as I vowed silently: Whoever did this will pay.

But Murad's swift order to expel the servants without hesitation left me feeling hollow, deprived of even the justice of confrontation. Every night since, I tasted every dish for my children, reminding myself of my vow to protect them.

"Here are the meals for the twins," Gülbahar said, placing the tray before me. I looked up, a flicker of suspicion in my mind. "Taste it," I ordered, my voice tight.

"What? Hatice, surely you don't think that I—"

"Try it." The tension in my voice was clear.

She met my gaze, hurt flickering across her face, but she obediently tasted each corner of the plate, exactly as I would. My tense breath finally released, and a wave of guilt washed over me. I broke down into tears.

"I'm so sorry, Gülbahar. I didn't mean it," I sobbed. "I just don't know who to trust."

Gülbahar pulled me into a comforting hug. "You can trust me," she whispered softly, squeezing my shoulders.

Her kindness only made my helplessness feel sharper. Even Murad had abandoned this hunt, choosing to play father to Safiye's children while mine lived under threat. I spoke, voice raw with resentment, "They could've killed my children, and where is he? With Safiye!"

"But you're not grieving." Raziye's voice entered the room, her comforting hand on my shoulder. "Don't let him make you feel weak. If you want his love, Hatice, you have to be strong. You have to make him notice you."

I looked at her, drawing in a shaky breath, and nodded. I had to find strength—for myself and for my children.

Only love could offer us true protection here, and I was ready to fight for it.

"By the way, that soup tasted delicious," I chuckled through my tears, trying to brush off the vulnerability.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The music and chatter grew louder as I made my way into the heart of the harem. The warm glow of the lanterns, the laughter, and the smell of sweet pastries filled the air, and women spun in elegant circles, lost in the joy of the evening's festivities. My eyes scanned the room, catching glimpses of familiar faces, their smiles unguarded, basking in the excitement of the night.

I felt a surge of anticipation around me. Whispers floated in the air, murmurs of news that had evidently swept through the harem. Noticing the collective excitement, I moved closer, dread growing. Who is pregnant now?

It was Elif who turned to me, her face lit with a smile as she approached. "Kadın, haven't you heard?" she asked, her eyes dancing. "The Sultan has formally named our prince as his heir!"

The words sank in slowly, and an unexpected wave of relief passed over me. Even though he was the sultan's only son, to hear this declaration felt like the sealing of a promise—protection for my little Selim, for his future.

Elif grinned, pulling me toward the dance floor. "This is wonderful news, Hatice. Come and dance! We are celebrating your şehzade tonight!"

Though her happiness was genuine, I declined politely. A part of me wanted to revel with them, to soak in the moment of joy, but I was still heavy with doubt and exhaustion, the weight of the recent events pressing down on me.

The thought of Murad celebrating elsewhere, likely basking in Safiye's company, kept me rooted in place.

After a few moments, the celebratory energy around me began to feel overwhelming, and I stepped out of the harem to catch my breath. The corridors were silent, a stark contrast to the liveliness of the harem. I turned the corner toward my chambers, but then a familiar voice called out to me.

"Hatice'm."

I turned to see Murad approaching, his expression unreadable. His presence here caught me off guard, and I quickly lowered my gaze, my heart racing despite the mix of emotions I felt. I bowed slightly. "Şehzade."

He took a step closer, watching me carefully. "Is something troubling you?" he asked, his tone soft yet cautious.

Without lifting my gaze, I replied coolly, "Perhaps side effects from the poison, Your Highness." The physical discomfort had mostly faded, but the bitterness remained, and I wanted him to feel it, to be reminded of how close he had come to losing not just me but his children.

He tensed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You should be in the infirmary," he insisted, his voice steady yet firm, his protective instinct surfacing. Reluctantly, I allowed him to lead me to the infirmary, though my mind was clouded with the feelings I had tried to suppress.

We were met by two of the physicians, their faces calm and reassuring, ready to examine me with their practised care. The soft, earthy scent of herbs and oils in the infirmary offered a sense of calm, and they began their checks with gentle, respectful hands.

After a series of questions, the lead physician paused, studying me thoughtfully. She then stepped back and exchanged a look with her colleague, a gentle smile playing on her lips. Turning back to me, she approached slowly, her voice a quiet murmur of excitement.

"Kadın," she said, a twinkle of warmth in her eyes. "I have good news."

I blinked, startled by her tone. The weight of the past few weeks, the bitterness, the sleepless nights—could any of it lead to something good?

Her smile widened as she finally spoke. "Congratulations, Kadın. You are with a child."

Her words hung in the air, and I found myself frozen, unable to react immediately. Another child. An innocent soul, born into a palace of power and intrigue, a world of love and rivalry. A rush of emotion overwhelmed me, blending relief, fear, and, beneath it all, a fragile, flickering sense of hope.

Murad stood beside me, silent, but I could feel his presence, his eyes on me. I turned slightly, seeing a softening in his expression, a flicker of something close to pride, and I felt a strange surge of strength within myself. He then kissed my forehead as he had grown accustomed to.

In the face of everything, I was determined to protect this new life growing inside me. I would not let my fears, my frustrations, or the dangerous politics of the harem touch this child. They would grow up safe, under my watchful eyes and guarded heart.

Did you guys know that —in history— Mahidevran tasted and/or prepared all of Mustafa's meal herself? I love this fact, so obviously Hatice had to be inspired by that! 🌷