Caterina spent her whole life being underlooked and misunderstood.
Hatice spent her whole teenage years chasing a man who loved another.
But Hüsniye became more than a pawn. She became a queen. She conquered the heart of the Ottoman Sultan, the hear...
I still didn't understand what I had ever done to Şemsirushar to make her want to kill me. Why would she wish to leave Mihrimah and Selim without their mother? It wasn't as though she had any şehzades whose futures could be threatened by my son.
Perhaps I would never know. But the question lingered like a shadow in my thoughts, a chilling reminder of how fragile life in the harem could be.
Suddenly, a sharp, twisting pain ripped through my abdomen, tearing me from my musings. I clutched at the edge of the divan, my vision blurring as I struggled to steady my breathing. This was no ordinary ache—this was the unmistakable pain of childbirth. "Gülbahar!" I gasped, panic rising in my chest. "It's time! The baby is coming!"
The door flung open as Gülbahar and Raziye rushed in, their expressions mirroring my terror. "Call the physicians!" Gülbahar barked, her usually calm demeanour dissolving into urgency.
"I... I wasn't ready for this!" I stammered, my voice shaky as another wave of pain stole my breath. Raziye knelt beside me, her touch gentle but her hands trembling.
"You're strong, Hatice. Focus on breathing," she urged, her voice steady despite her obvious fear.
The chamber became a whirlwind of movement as the female physicians arrived, their sharp, commanding voices slicing through the chaos. They ushered everyone else out of the room, leaving only my attendants and themselves.
"Where are my children?" I whispered, clutching at Gülbahar's hand.
"With Nilüfer," Raziye assured me. "Don't worry about them now—focus on this baby."
Tears blurred my vision as I fought to concentrate, the pain building to an unbearable crescendo. Each contraction felt like it would split me in two, but I clung to the hope that my child would be born safely.
Time became a blur of agony and shouted instructions until, finally, the room was filled with the most beautiful sound I had ever heard—the sharp, urgent cry of a newborn.
"It's a sultana!" one of the physicians announced, wrapping the baby and placing her into my arms.
"Is she healthy?"
"Yes, Kadın. Here she is." My heart swelled as I gazed at her tiny, perfect features. Relief and joy mingled with the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm me. "Thank Allah," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her soft forehead.
The naming ceremony came quickly after, with the royal family gathered in my chambers. I was surprised to see Esmehan Sultan among them, her regal presence adding gravity to the occasion. I bowed my head respectfully, though my fatigue weighed heavily on me.
"Your name will be... Hanzade," Murad whispered as he cradled our daughter. "Your name will be Hanzade, your name will be Hanzade."
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The sight of him holding Hanzade, while Gülbahar and Raziye carried Mihrimah and Selim, filled me with a sense of completeness. For the first time in what felt like forever, my family felt whole.
After the ceremony, as the court began to disperse, Esmehan lingered. Her expression was softer than I had ever seen, the usual guarded poise replaced by something almost tender.
"Hanzade is a beautiful name," she said, her voice low and thoughtful. "It carries great meaning. She is fortunate to have a mother so willing to fight for her family."
I blinked, taken aback by her unexpected praise. "Your words honour me, Sultanım," I replied, bowing my head slightly.
Esmehan studied me for a moment, then smiled faintly. "You've shown resilience, Hatice. This family needs women like you." Her tone carried both warmth and a veiled sense of purpose, as though her words were meant to convey more than comfort.
I hesitated before speaking again. "Sultanım, I hope that I may rely on your wisdom in the days ahead."
Her gaze lingered, her eyes sharp but not unkind. "Perhaps, in time, you will find that I can rely on yours as well."
As she turned to leave, I realized the potential power of her words. Esmehan was not only Murad's sister but also the wife of the Grand Vizier, a man whose influence extended across the empire. An alliance with her could secure not only my position in the harem but also the futures of my children.
"Sultanım," I called after her, my voice steady. "If ever there is a way I might serve you, please let me know."
Esmehan paused, her expression unreadable, then nodded. "I will remember that, Hatice," she said simply before disappearing into the corridor.
Her veiled promise echoed in my mind. For the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of hope. An alliance with Esmehan could be the key to protecting my family in the treacherous waters of the palace.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
Dear Hanzade,
You were born on January 15th, 1569 to Şehzade Murad, son of Selim II, and Hatice Kadın, his İkinci Kadın. You are the younger sister of Şehzade Selim and Mihrimah Sultan.
Your birth was nothing short of a miracle, for the journey was fraught with challenges. Yet, thank Allah, you are perfect, and my heart is full of love for you.
With all my heart,
Your mother, Hatice
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Did you expect another daughter?
What are your predictions on her future children? Remember Hatice comes from a family with fourteen siblings!
